Hold On Through the Dark
by your mary crawley
Summary: It's 1916, and Matthew is returning to Downton for the first time in two years. The war has given him a new determination to make things right with a certain dark-haired woman. He has to know the truth. Only can the truth renew the relationship with the woman he has always loved.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hold On Through the Dark**_

 _ **by galindadaae and alliluna**_

 _ **(your mary crawley)**_

 _ **Chapter 1**_

* * *

The fog over the countryside was thick, a gray soup covering the place that Matthew had missed so much. It was almost disappointing to not be able to see everything; after so many long months at the front, all he could see on the train from London to Downton was gray.

The view could have been a nice distraction, although little could be done to keep thoughts from overtaking him. Sleep would have been a good distraction, but everything was too quiet for him to even contemplate closing his eyes. Even with the rumbling of the train beneath him, everything felt eerily silent, as if something was missing.

He should have felt peaceful for the first time in months, but his mind was still on high alert, as if the war would come into the train car every minute. On his last leave, the feeling would not go away for the first few days. He fully expected it to be the same this time.

Matthew took a long look out the window before settling back in his seat and opening up a small piece of paper in his clammy hand. An address.

He had gone to a party hosted by one of university friends on his first night in London. He was not entirely sure why, at the time, except that his ticket for the train to Yorkshire hadn't been until the next morning, and he wanted to do something normal for a change. Something that didn't have to do with family or war. It was a perfectly nice party, subdued but enjoyable. And there he met a girl.

Lavinia Swire sat next to him at dinner. She talked with him for most of the evening, as he discovered that her father was also a lawyer and that they had very similar family experiences growing up. He was very happy to speak of the past as if it wasn't a distant memory of a totally different world. The night almost felt normal. But at the end of the evening, it was clear that Lavinia was far more interested in him than he was in her. She gave him her address and offered to write letters to him at the front. Matthew had not known how to respond; she was sweet, of course, but he was by no means ready to have any sort of relationship. But Lavinia was so kind about it that he couldn't say no. Instead, he stammered uncomfortably something about limited paper, shoved the address in his pocket, and looked at her face once more. Her eyes were so big and pleading, and he couldn't resist saying, "Of course I'll try my best to write back." It was probably a lie, but he could make any number of excuses later on if he ever met her again.

He hoped for her happiness. It just probably wouldn't be with him.

Of course, if Matthew hadn't been in mortal danger at every turn, he probably still would not have yet been ready for a relationship. The brokenness between himself and Mary still stung; two years later, and he had not yet gotten over the way their relationship had ended. After many hours of pondering, he had decided it was his responsibility for their failure; he had pushed her, he had been unwilling to accept that she loved him after she hesitated, he had been too stubborn to even give them a chance together.

And he hadn't spoken to her in two years.

Oh, he had heard plenty about her. Robert would write him letters often, to keep him updated on the happenings at the house, although his letters often danced around the subject of Mary in an obvious attempt at sensitivity. His mother wrote as often as possible, and her letters told him everything that was going on. She did mention Mary, often. Maybe she thought that if he heard about Mary going on with her life, he would better be able to go on with his. No such luck though; instead, Matthew dwelled on every mention of her, rereading the letters over and over again before shoving them into the desk in the dugout to try to avoid the behavior which he knew wasn't helpful at all. Even Sybil wrote him a few letters, although they were mostly about how useless she felt in regards to the war effort. He appreciated it all, but he hated how he scoured the letters for any mention of Mary and how she was doing after what he had regarded to be the hardest fight of his life.

Even after experiencing the Somme, he regarded it the hardest fight of his life.

He had not just heard about Mary from the family, however. The men around him had been very curious about her, and seemed to know more than Matthew did, at least in some respects. "Hey Crawley, you wouldn't happen to know Lady Mary, would you?" one man asked one day.

Matthew froze. He wasn't sure how much he should say. He wasn't even sure why the other man would ask. "She's my cousin," he replied, starting to turn away.

"Ah, so you must know her well."

Matthew shrugged. "Well enough." It wasn't a lie, exactly.

"Oh, then you've got a good perspective on this. Charlie and I've been arguing 'bout it, but do you think she screwed the Turk?"

Matthew frowned. "Excuse me?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I told you, Roy, he's not gonna be happy you asked that. I don't think she did it, it's just a stupid rumor going around."

"I've never heard that rumor before," Matthew replied, his voice hesitant. "It doesn't seem like something Mary would do."

"Told you!" Charlie said gleefully.

"Ah, man, that means nothin'! He's just a cousin!" Roy muttered.

"We were engaged, actually," Matthew said, his voice quiet and unobtrusive.

Charlie's eyes widened. "Well, I guess he would know, wouldn't he, Roy?"

"Ah, I doubt he'd know even then. Are you still engaged to her, then?"

"No," Matthew began to walk away.

Roy burst out laughing. "Is it because she screwed the Turk?"

"Damn man, don't be vulgar," Charlie said, elbowing him. (Matthew walked away before he did something he would live to regret.)

Matthew didn't know what to make of the rumors. Would Mary ever do such a thing? He doubted it, but he couldn't be sure. He remembered Kemal Pamuk, and the reckless way Mary had flirted with him, and her quiet devastation when he was found dead the next morning. Yes, Mary had been enamored with him, but not so much as to throw her good reputation away?

He pondered it, but he still didn't know.

And on the train back to Downton, he still had no better idea of whether the rumors were true. They couldn't be true, could they? Or at least not in the form he had heard them told.

He would have to talk to Mary, he realized. Of course, he had already known this; it would be far too awkward to go back to Downton and not talk to her, but he needed to talk to her beyond the quick niceties of societal convention.

Otherwise, he might never know.

Death had been on his mind often, but pushed to the back, like something far in the future but also far closer than ever imagined. And he knew, oh he knew so well, that he could die when he went back to the front. He had seen so much of it already, it only seemed natural that it would come to him next.

He had come to peace with it, of sorts. He knew his mother would be provided for. Downton might struggle again, but Robert would find a way. He wasn't leaving too much unfinished business behind.

But Mary? He couldn't die without making things right with her.

He had to know.

* * *

Mary's feet stepped down onto the platform of the Downton Village train station. She raised her head and took a breath. She was home.

London had been nice, she supposed, but the parties and social gatherings dwindled in the midst of the war. As a city that to her had always been a means of escape and distraction, her escapades had been rather dull indeed. And with nothing exciting happening in London, what was to distract her thoughts from the fact that her- well, not _her_ Matthew being at war in a foreign country?

She got into the car waiting for her, and despite wanting to put her head in her hand due to sheer exhaustion, she looked out the window and tried to force herself to become interested in her surroundings. The fog was distorting most of the landscape, but the streets of Downton Village were still in view.

Mary looked away as they passed Crawley House. Instead she fiddled with her handbag as the car turned onto the Abbey's long and winding driveway. The car stopped and as she was greeted by the faces of her mother and sisters, she couldn't help but feel a pang at a face that was missing. Missing since the fall of 1914, be exact. A face that could have been her husband if she hadn't selfishly delighted in his love for as long she could before the inevitability of her ruin also ruined them.

She was home. Matthew was at war. And her facade of indifference was once more schooled on her face with her family surrounding her as she walked inside, asking how she had been and what the latest news coming from London was.

Mary rolled her eyes when her mother asked if she had met anyone significant in the city, and smiled at Sybil who was telling her how much the family had missed her. She climbed the stairs as quickly as she could and closed her bedroom door behind her. She took a deep breath, sighed, and sat on her bed.

Later that evening, as she was finishing readying herself for dinner, her mother and sisters had invited themselves into her room under the guise of catching her up on family news when truly, they wanted to hear of how things were in the city.

"Glad to be back?" Sybil inquired kindly.

"I'm never sure," Mary responded. No matter where she went, her worry of Matthew would follow her. "I'd forgotten about this nightmare of a concert. Why didn't any of you warn me? I'd have come back later."

Edith smiled slightly. "But you'd have missed Matthew."

"What?" Mary's head whipped around to meet her mother's eyes, asking for clarification.

Cora hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Matthew's on leave and he's in the village, so your Papa and I thought it would be a good time to mend our fences. He's coming with Isobel."

"Tonight," Edith added, just a touch too gleefully. Mary, in contrast, was frozen. She had no idea what to think. As long as Matthew was away, she could internally indulge herself in her love for him and try to forget all the bitterness that had driven them away from each other. With his return, she could no longer try to pretend all the hurt that occurred between them was in the past.

She finally spoke. "Well, how marvelous." A smile brightened her features, but everyone could tell it was fake. "You all don't have to worry about me. I'm perfectly fine. It will be nice to see Matthew after such a long time."

"I wonder why he's stayed so far away…" Edith pretended to ponder.

"Stop asking stupid questions, Edith. It doesn't suit you." Mary gestured for Anna to give her her gloves. "Don't mind me. You can all go down. I'll join you in a minute."

Everyone began to leave, including Anna, who gave Mary's shoulder a slight touch of reassurance. Even if her family couldn't understand, Mary could always count on Anna to comfort her.

She put her face in her gloved hands as she sat at the vanity, distraught. She certainly was not ready for Matthew to see her once more. How would she be able to handle him looking at her with such disdain? She couldn't blame him, she _had_ treated him terribly, and without concern for his feelings.

Edith would say during that hot summer day in 1914 Mary had gotten her comeuppance, and for once Mary would not disagree with her younger sister. But still, she could try to make things right. She would be kind to Matthew, and would not let on the depth of her personal turmoil due to the mistakes she had made. He was home from the war, and how marvelous the thought!

She would be his friend and cousin, no more. Mary lifted her face to the mirror, her eyes set rather determinedly, and took a sharp breath of air before standing up from her vanity and heading downstairs.

To wait for the man she loved to arrive.

* * *

He remembered when he first came to Downton; he remembered how large and imposing the house had seemed, how frightening the future was as it stretched out ahead of him like the long drive of Downton the car was rattling down.

Now his biggest fear was not having a future at all.

Isobel's hand was on his knee as they sat in silence on the drive, simply trying to be reassuring. It was, in a sense at least, insofar as he could be reassured.

As the castle came into view, Matthew pressed his lips together and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the time ahead. It was just a concert. It was just a concert and a dinner. Who cared if Mary was there? She was just his cousin, his friend, his…

Of course he cared that Mary was there, who was he kidding? And it mattered tonight. He only had a few days at home; he would have to make the most of it.

The journey home from the front had seemed both so long and so short; Matthew felt miles away from the front as he stepped into the grand hall at Downton, but the memories of where he had been a mere thirty-six hours before still remained at the forefront of his mind. He stood behind his mother and gazed around the hall, as if he were seeing it for the first time again. Everything seemed so clean, so new, so different than his life was; he felt out of place.

His gaze finally settled on the one he'd been thinking about for so long.

Mary.

She looked as beautiful as ever, elegant and composed, but she didn't look happy. Matthew couldn't quite tell if his heart was sinking or beating a little faster at this idea. Of course, he wanted her to be happy… but he wanted her to be happy with him. Not that he would admit that, not even to himself.

He watched as she put on a smile when talking to a guest at the concert. He could tell that it was forced, and yet it looked perfectly natural. But he knew her, and he knew she was not happy.

When she turned away from her conversation and noticed him, standing in the middle of the great hall completely inattentive to anything around him, her jaw dropped ever so slightly, but just enough so that he noticed it. Their eyes met, and unconsciously, they moved toward each other.

Her voice was so soft as she came up to him that he almost didn't hear it. What could she say to start off a conversation after what they had left each other with two long years ago. "Hello," she said simply. No other words would suffice, really.

He gazed at her, his eyes wide, drinking in the beautiful woman that he had loved for so long, that he was utterly unable to forget. "Hello…" he replied. It seemed such an inane thing to say, but at the same time, it was perfectly true. She was glowing, her beauty perhaps even more enchanting than it had been when they had fought. It must be, he reasoned, for how could he have justified leaving her when this much love pulsed through him?

"It's been such a long time, I'm not sure what to say," she said, touching a hand to his arm, saying exactly what he was feeling. Electricity flowed between them, although they were not quite able to meet each other's eyes. Not yet.

"I'm…" he started, his voice catching in his throat. "I'm glad to see you looking so well."

She laughed, and with that glorious sound, all seemed right. "Alright, you win, we are at peace again," she said, smiling and placing her other hand on his arm. A gesture of friendship, he reminded himself, of renewed friendship and nothing more.

"When so much of this world is caught up in war, we ought to have a little peace somewhere," he joked, although he didn't feel the humor.

Mary didn't really laugh, but she offered an indulgent smile. "I agree. Well, the concert's about to start, we'd best get seated."

Matthew nodded, barely conscious of what she was saying.

He ended up seated next to Sybil during the concert, which he enjoyed as Sybil would make very clever comments about the music. But halfway through the concert, he is too overwhelmed by a thought on his mind to listen in silence. "Sybil," he whispered, as the music soared to cover their conversation, "Do you have any idea how the seating might be arranged? For dinner?"

Sybil shrugged. "I could go check and see, why?"

"Oh, I was… just hoping I could speak with Mary. But if you don't…"

Sybil was already halfway out of her seat. "I could go switch the placecards. There's so many more people attending than usual tonight that Mama would barely notice and if she did, she'd be too polite to comment," she whispered. "I'll go do that." She slipped quietly out of the row and ran off.

When she came back, half breathless and grinning furiously, Matthew pressed his hand into hers. "You're a good woman, Sybil."

"Always happy to engage in a bit of mischief for a good cause," Sybil replied. "The swap had the added benefit of me not being next to Larry Grey, which is always nice," she murmured under her breath, casting a disapproving glance across the room to the man in question.

The concert ended without Matthew having really listened to it, as his thoughts had been too occupied with the dinner ahead. The clapping was quiet, polite, and such an odd outburst of noise compared to what he has been used to. The sound seemed to follow him as they entered the dining room and sit down to eat dinner.

He watched as Mary sat down, and he sat down next to her, glancing across the table to see if anyone has noticed the slightly odd seating arrangement. Cora looked across the table with an indistinct frown, but just as Sybil had predicted, she said nothing. Mary blinked quickly, looking down at her first course, and turned to smile at Matthew. "I'm surprised Mama would seat us together," she said softly.

"I can't say I'm disappointed," Matthew replied, surprised at his own boldness.

"No," she murmured, looking down at her lap. "It's been so long I… I can't imagine you feel the same way about things as you did then."

Matthew shook his head. "The war has changed my perspective on things, that's for certain."

"What's it been like?" Mary asked, for a second not quite poised, but full of sympathy and fear.

Noise. Fear. A heart that won't stop beating at an unsustainable rate. Explosions. Blood. Mud. Cold. Death. But he couldn't talk about any of those. Mary didn't need to know, and he couldn't articulate it. He licked his lips and tried to focus his wandering, haunted eyes. "You know, the thing is, I just can't talk about it."

Mary didn't show much emotion, but her eyes softened ever so slightly as she nodded and attempted to smile. "Have you missed us?"

"What do you think?" he replied. "Of course, and I feel like I have so much to catch up on with you. I've… I've found things over the past two years that make me think of you. Um… like a book I read on the train home, I thought you might like. Would you… come to the library after dinner so I could show it to you?" His tongue stumbled over the lie, his hands nervously grasping at his knees.

Mary could tell he was up to something instantly. "Couldn't you show it to me in the drawing room?"

"No… no, I couldn't," he said, his eyes desperately searching for a reason. But he could not find one, so instead he met her gaze and silently begged her to accept his reasoning.

"I guess the library's as good a place as any to discuss a book," Mary said, trying to keep herself from laughing at Matthew's sweet nervousness. He was not being wholly truthful, but she was certain he would reveal his real intent once they were alone together. And if she was honest with herself, she wanted to be alone with him. Maybe they could make things right.

Their conversation throughout the rest of the dinner was light, far away from war, far away from their relationship, far away from anything that might make them uncomfortable. But the shadow of the future hung over them, and as the last course was cleared away, they shared a significant glance. Mary made some excuse that was significantly more believable than Matthew's, and together they walked to the library.

* * *

Please review! Alli and I have worked very hard to plan out this entire fic's plot, and we will write when we can. We love this universe and hopefully will stay very inspired. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

 ** _written by galindadaae_**

 ** _edited by alliluna_**

 _"I am forever grateful that he exists, even though he will never be mine." -Lina A._

* * *

The fireplace crackled softly, breaking what would otherwise be silence as they left behind the mass of people moving to the drawing room. The light was low, and the atmosphere unexpectedly intimate. Both Mary and Matthew knew they would leave the room after this conversation much changed, but neither yet knew how.

"Here." Matthew gestured to a chair that was across from his, so Mary could sit. She did so, and Matthew frowned. This setup seemed too much like an interrogation, and he didn't want Mary to think he was trying to intimidate her or scare her. He simply wanted to know the truth. Mary sat down gracefully, and without complaint. Her eyes locked onto his, and he could tell she was somewhat nervous— so was he. Awkward silence reigned. Matthew knew he was supposed to start, as he was the one who had called this meeting with her, of sorts. But this felt all wrong. "Do you- um, want to sit over there instead?" This time Matthew gestured to the couch by the fireplace. This seemed a much less grandiose option. They knew each other too well for simply staring at each other from across the room.

Mary shifted and walked over to the couch. When he moved towards her, she stopped him with her voice.

"Where's this book you wanted to show me? It must have made quite an impression on you if you had to show it to me in here." Mary's tone suggested she was confident, and in control. But Matthew saw the nervous swallow she took after speaking, and knew it was just a cover.

"Mary, I think you and I both know very well that I didn't request for us to come in here so we could discuss a book."

"No," she responded. "To be quite honest, I have no idea what you expect of me."

"I just, wanted to know if…," He broke off and turned his eyes to the fireplace. She couldn't have slept with Kemal Pamuk. Why was he even asking? He knew her character. He knew her to be cold and calculated, yes, but smart. She wouldn't throw away her reputation for a Turkish attaché. Would she? His eyes flitted back to hers and he unconsciously licked his lips. Mary knew this was a nervous habit of his, and despite her own nervousness, prodded him.

"You wanted to know if…"

"I heard a rumor on the front, you see, and I…wanted to ask you if it was true." Matthew's eyes grew concerned as Mary's face crumpled in what could only be perceived as shame.

"So you know, then." It wasn't a question.

"Mary, I don't know _what_ I know. All I know is what men said at war. Tell me it was all a vicious lie, and I'll believe you." But Matthew had a sinking feeling in his heart.

"I don't know what you know either, but I can hazard a guess." She took a shuddering breath. "I guess I might as well tell you the whole miserable story of Lady Mary's ruin."

Matthew flinched. So, some of it was true. Perhaps all of it.

Mary told him. Of how Pamuk went out with her during the hunt. How he kissed her underneath the Della Francesca. And how he showed up at her bedroom door.

"I couldn't think of a reason to refuse him. So, I didn't." Mary shrugged. A traitorous tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away. "And, he…died. In my bed." Mary felt, rather than heard Matthew's sharp intake of breath. "Me, Mama, and Anna had to drag him back to his room in the dead of night. I remember bathing the next day, furiously trying to scrape any remnant of him away." Mary felt strangely disconnected from herself. She had done it. She told him. And now he would leave her. She was so numb at this point, she couldn't even feel her heart breaking. Perhaps it had broken a long time ago, and there was nothing left to shatter.

Faintly, she could hear her and Matthew's breaths, along with the crackling fire. She couldn't hazard a glance at him. She knew what she would find on his face. Disgust, hurt, betrayal. How could she blame him? That's how she felt about the situation too. She was paying for her folly now.

But if Mary had looked into Matthew's eyes, she would have seen hurt, yes, but a glimpse of admiration for her being so brave in telling him. He knew it wasn't easy for Mary of all people, to speak of making a mistake, but she had told him of her darkest regret. (And little did he know, that wasn't her darkest regret. Her darkest regret was not telling him all of this in 1914).

"Mary, I'm…."

"I know."

"No, you don't." He corrected her gently. The tenderness in his voice made her heart skip a beat. "I'm so sorry this happened to you. And I'm sorry for bringing it up." His hand brushed hers on the couch cushion. This touch was too much. How could he do anything but hate her? _She_ hated her!

"How can you say that? I ruined myself, and I ruined...everything." _Us_ , hung in the room, unspoken.

"I'm not saying I understand everything that happened in 1913. I'm saying… that Kemal Pamuk showed up to your room uninvited and unwanted. I'm saying that you couldn't find a reason to refuse him because he didn't give you an option." Mary held in a sob. The absolution she had always desperately wanted, but had convinced herself she was not worthy of, was given to her by the man she loved. "I'm saying, that if…perhaps…this is the reason you didn't accept me in 1914, I don't blame you."

Mary laughed bitterly, although truthfully her heart was soaring from hearing these words. "I blame me. I was selfish. I couldn't let you see me as less than the cold and careful Lady Mary Crawley."

"Oh God, Mary. You are so much more than cold and careful. And you are so much than a traumatic night in 1913 and a cowardly choice in 1914."

"How are you not angry at me?" she asked, distraught.

"Maybe I am. Or maybe I would have been, if you had told me this two years ago. But you didn't. And I've been through two years of absolute hell since, Mary. It makes it easier to tell what's truly important."

"You should hate me."

"But I don't hate you! I lo—" He cut himself off. He hoped Mary didn't catch what he said. He was lucky. Mary was too busy letting loose two years of shame and guilt to hear him. He so desperately wanted to touch her. To take her in his arms and hold all of her burdens for her. He knew he would never love anyone else the way he loved this woman. He wanted to run his hands down her pale arms, ghost his lips over the hollow in her collar bone, and move his hand up and down her back as she shook with sobs. He sat still. His hand inched towards hers on the cushion, and then moved back. Touching her now would only make her more catatonic.

He didn't want to leave her, but he got up anyways to check if the door was locked. Mary would hate it if anyone saw her like this. She already hated that he was seeing her like this. He knew that if someone tried to open the door and found it locked, it wouldn't reflect well on himself or Mary, but he found he didn't care. If someone had their suspicions then he would simply defend Mary's reputation all the more adamantly.

Mary was glad Matthew had left his seat next to her. She couldn't compose herself until he had distanced himself from her. She took off her gloves. There was so sense in propriety anymore. Not when he knew her true character. And yet, he didn't hate her. He wasn't even angry, at least not at her. She suspected that if Kemal Pamuk were still alive she would be busy convincing Matthew not to go and murder him.

Above all, she knew she loved him. She loved him, and she would never love anyone else the way she loved him. She sniffled a bit into her handkerchief, and regained her composure. She touched her hair, still perfectly coiffed despite her body's exertions.

Matthew let Mary have another minute to herself before tentatively making his way back over to her. She looked at him.

"So, what now?" She asked.

"I'm not sure." And he wasn't. He knew he loved her and hoped she loved him, but he was at war. He would be back at the front in barely over forty-eight hours from then. Nothing could come of this.

"Your mother gave me a photo of you, you know." Matthew looked over in surprise. "I hid it so Edith couldn't find it and tease me mercilessly. But I take it out and look at it every night." She stopped for a moment, eyes searching his. Neither was sure what they were looking for. Something was happening, but neither was sure what. He took in a breath. What did she mean by telling him all of this?

"I went over to Crawley House, and found out you had already left to join up in Manchester." Matthew cringed at the mention of his hasty exit. Mary looked at him, her eyes wide and somber. "I didn't get to say goodbye." _Or that she loved him desperately, no matter his situation in life, and no matter the circumstances._ "She must have seen my disappointment plain on my face, because she gave a small portrait of you she was holding to me. She said she had another copy she could use. I quietly thanked her, and left."

Matthew said nothing. He still didn't know what any of this meant. He and Mary were at a standstill. But this time it was his turn to break the silence.

"I kept the note you wrote to me the day after Sybil's ball. Every time I have to send the men over the trenches, I brush over it in my pocket. It reminds me that through all of this hell, this nightmare, there is another existence out there. One of beauty and innocence." _One of love._

"And I ruined it." Mary said quietly. She felt sorry for tainting what should be such a beautiful memory for him in such a dark time.

"You did no such thing." Matthew's voice was barely above a whisper. Mary thought for a moment she was hallucinating. "I went to the front to do my part for king and country, of course, but I also went to try to forget you." Mary shifted slightly in discomfort. "It didn't work. In fact, my distance from you only confirmed what I already knew." He paused.

"I still love you, Mary. I tried to stop, but I couldn't. My love for you has only infinitely increased." Mary sighed in relief.

"I love you too." She said simply. She shrugged with a surprised smile. There was nothing more to say than that.

His eyes searched hers once more, and this time he found the answer he was looking for. He leaned in slowly, and was pleasantly surprised when Mary met him the rest of the way. Their lips touched. It was bliss. They rediscovered the terrain they had learned two years ago. His hand crept up to cup behind her neck, and she sighed as a thrill of exhilaration went through her. In return, she lifted her hand to stroke his cheek. This cheek, of the man she loved, and the man that loved her. Surely Mary had never felt such joy as in this moment. And every barrier to their happiness was gone. Or, at least she thought.

Matthew broke the kiss, and pressed his forehead to hers. Both drew in heavy breaths and smiled a little. All too soon however, the moment was broken.

"I'm sorry, Mary." Matthew said suddenly.

"Heavens, why?"

"I have to go back to the front in two days. I lay all of these emotional burdens on you when I may be dead in seventy-two hours." He looked at the ground, resigned.

But Mary's lips curled into a smile. "Matthew."

"What?"

"Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"Just ask me."

"Mary, you can't mean…"

"Well why not? We love each other. It's what people who are in love do."

"There's a war going on. A war that I have to go back to. It wouldn't be the right thing to do."

"Damn the right thing to do and just ask me, Matthew." She smiled at him. "It would make me so very glad if you did."

He stared at her, unsure for what couldn't have been more than a few seconds but seemed like forever. He shook his head and laughed, a matching smile spreading across his face. "Alright Mary," he relented. He gestured for her to stand up. He couldn't ask her while they were both sitting on the couch. That certainly wasn't the honorable way to do things. He slowly sunk onto one knee. He grasped her hands in his. He tried to conceal the shaking in his voice.

"Lady Mary Crawley, I'm not sure I should be doing this, but will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes!" she answered him immediately. He stood up, and after barely a moment's hesitation, took her in his arms and kissed her.

So joyful were the two that Matthew lifted her up and spun her around in a circle.

"Matthew!" Mary protested through joyful laughter. "You're going to set my dress aflame!" He set her down and smiled at her guiltily. "There's no need to burn down Downton, darling."

His eyebrow quirked at her use of the term, but then he grew serious. "Mary, it's very possible I don't make it out of this war alive."

"I know." She said. "But...I love you. And if I can be your wife for a year, or even just your fiancé, then that's enough for me."

"If we only ever get tonight and tomorrow? You know I only have a day."

"Then that will have to do." Both of them had silent tears running down their faces, and before they knew it they were both sitting in a puddle on the floor crying tears of joy and fear as they kissed and murmured to each other how much they were loved.

They only broke apart minutes later- or hours, neither could really focus on anything but each other, when a key could be heard turning in the door. After a moment, Sybil's head popped around the door.

"Mary? Are you quite alright?" Sybil took a couple steps into the library. "Everyone else has left now, except for Granny and Cousin Isobel. Mama sent me to get you, but the door was locked so I fetched Anna. Don't worry though, I won't let her know the door was even closed." Mary was absolutely beaming at Sybil, but not saying anything. Such a contrast from her mood earlier in the night. "What is it?" She asked her sister.

Mary and Matthew simply looked at each other and smiled. Sybil gasped and ran out of the room, presumably to tell the family what she had seen. Matthew stood up and held his hand out to Mary. She accepted, and once on her feet, started reassembling her mask of façade. First went the gloves onto her arms, and then any sign of creasing on her dress. Lastly went the smile. But that wouldn't do for Matthew. He grabbed her gloved hand and kissed it delicately. Sure enough, her smile returned, if small. The smile, he realized, that she would only show to him.

"Are you ready to face them?" He asked her.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she laughed breathily. He held out his arm and she took it. Together they walked out of the library to face the family.

* * *

 _AHHH they are engaged!_

Please be kind enough to leave a review, especially if you did on the first chapter! It would make us so very happy. We are very pleasantly surprised about the number of reviews and follows (and even a couple of favorites!) we have received. We are very excited and your motivation to review keeps us motivated to write! We are already a decent way through writing Chapter 3, so hopefully it won't be too long of a wait until the next chapter (which is mostly written by my dear alliluna). Thanks again!

-galindadaae


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

 _Written by galindadaae and aliluna_

* * *

As the madness of family descended upon them in the Great Hall, Mary imperceptibly tightened her grip on Matthew's arm. That, however, didn't last long as Sybil hugged Mary so tightly that she was forced to be separated from him. Mary smiled softly after a moment and returned her sister's hug.

"Tell me it's true, Mary. Tell me what I suspect is correct!" Sybil gushed excitedly. Mary blushed scarlet, but didn't say anything. Matthew looked at her and decided to speak for them.

"Everyone, I'm very pleased to announce that Mary and I are…engaged to be married." He beamed down at her. The family all exclaimed in surprise and joy (except for one slightly more reserved figure). Even Violet tapped her cane on the ground in approval. Isobel came up and kissed Matthew on the cheek, and hugged Mary, who after a moment of surprise, returned it.

Robert walked up and shook Matthew's hand vigorously. "I'm sorry I didn't ask your permission first, sir." Matthew looked at Robert seriously. His glance moved over to Mary, and his eyes softened. "I didn't exactly plan it."

"Nonsense, my boy. I understand completely. I'm just overjoyed that you and Mary worked things out." He smiled at Matthew warmly.

"Me too," Matthew said quietly as Mary turned to them.

"Really Papa, it's the twentieth century. Does Matthew still need ask your permission? I am fairly sure I can make my own decisions." But Mary was smiling as well. It seemed she couldn't stop even if she tried. And she was. It wouldn't do for the family to already know the softening effect this man had on her. Robert simply laughed good-naturedly and patted Matthew on the back before kissing his daughter on the forehead and walking back to Cora.

Truly, it was quite a joyous moment. One would have thought that Edith would have been quite put out, but even she cracked a smile. She had always liked Matthew, and was glad to see him happy even if it was with Mary of all people.

Violet was more restrained. She didn't walk up to the happy pair, but she had a soft smile gracing her lips. Her favorite granddaughter (she wasn't ashamed to admit she had a favorite) had ended up with the man she loved. It turned out her daughter's meddling all those seasons ago had not ruined things for good.

Breaking her glance, she said loudly, "Well I think that's quite enough excitement for one evening. Congratulations Mary, Matthew. I'll be back up for dinner tomorrow. But for tonight, I retire."

This signal from the Crawley matriarch signaled the end of the night had arrived. Isobel walked over to Violet. "I think I shall be going home soon myself. Matthew?"

"Let me just have a minute, mother. You can wait in the car if you like." Isobel nodded. Normally she would have chastised her son, but she couldn't begrudge him this. Not on this night, and not during this war. She and Violet made their way to the car. The others dispersed, presumably upstairs or to the drawing room, so Mary and Matthew could have a last moment of privacy for the night.

Once alone, they simply looked at each other in silence. Mary's gaze returned to the floor. Only he could do this to her. Only he could make her feel like she could fly and like an inexperienced schoolgirl all in the same minute.

Matthew cleared his throat. "Well then, I guess I should head home." He turned to leave and was almost to the door when Mary said-

"Matthew, wait." He turned to her, a grin playing on his lips. He knew she couldn't let him leave yet. "Will I be seeing you tomorrow?"

"Do you want to see me?" He asked, although he knew the answer.

"Of course I do. I know you only have tomorrow then leave the next morning. I want to spend time with you while I can before…" _Before you have to go back._ Before her fiancé returned to a world of shells and gunfire and mud. Matthew watched as the happiness from her eyes faded and was replaced with worry. That wouldn't do. He checked that no one was around. He leaned into her and pressed his cheek against her hair. She sighed, unnoticeable to anyone but him.

"How about this? I'll call on you after breakfast tomorrow. We'll spend the whole day together doing whatever you want. Perhaps I can finally show you that my riding skills do in fact, exist." Mary huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes. Matthew smiled more contentedly. This is why he was fighting this damn war. For her. How he ever thought he could forget he loved her would be a mystery. He shook his head at his past folly and looked down at her dark brown head, admiring her, then tilted her chin up so he could place the lightest of kisses on her lips. Mary let herself indulge in what would become all to rare of a sensation, but his lips left hers far too soon for her liking. If his mother and her grandmother weren't waiting in the car, then she would have pulled him back for more. But for now, she opened her eyes.

"Goodnight, Mary," he whispered into her ear, before walking towards the door and opening it to reveal the waiting car. She knew Carson would be furious if he knew Matthew had let himself out- heavens forbid he get his own coat and hat! For this moment, however, she was rather glad Carson was nowhere in sight. It wouldn't do to have had him present for her goodbye to her fiancé.

After a minute, Mary moved back into the drawing room, expecting to see her family waiting before heading to bed. Instead all she saw was her mother, innocently reading a novel by the fire.

"Where is everyone?" she asked.

"Oh, they've all gone up." Her mother said this dismissively.  
"Already?" Mary raised a knowing eyebrow. "That's unusual."

"It's been a long day," her mother explained. Mary didn't accept this. It _had_ been a long day. But she couldn't imagine Sybil already heading to bed after the excitement she had shown just a few minutes earlier. Her mother was up to something.

"What do you want, Mama?" Mary made her way to the settee, and prepared herself for whatever lecture her mother had decided to give. Her mother had no hesitation and began immediately.

"Are you sure this is wise, Mary? We all love Matthew, but he could be killed within the week! He could pass a week before your wedding, or leave you widowed, perhaps even with a child."

Mary knew where this was going. She steeled herself. "Mama-"

"What about that Richard Carlisle you wrote to me about just two weeks ago? The one you met in Cliveden? You said he wouldn't be called up, and he seems like a perfectly reasonable man."

"But Mama, I wouldn't be happy with him." Mary tried to make her headstrong mother see reason.  
"How do you know? There are many different varieties of happiness. And security in your future should be the first priority, Mary. I just want you to be content and cared for."

" _Matthew_ makes me feel content and cared for." Mary didn't know how to make her mother understand her.

"For how long? This war is only getting more dangerous-"

"I'm not breaking off my engagement to Matthew. I already ruined things between us once. I'm stupid enough to do so again." Mary said this with finality. She made her way to the door when her mother's voice stopped her.

"And does he know of your...indiscretion?" Cora asked, sounding innocent. Mary's eyes flashed dangerously. She had no more shame to bear. Her voice was ice cold.

"He does. I told him. And he loves me. He doesn't blame me for being taken advantage of against my will."

"I just meant- " Cora tried to backtrack.

"I know exactly what you meant. Goodnight, Mama." Mary walked out of the room and closed the door behind her with just a little more force than was absolutely necessary.

* * *

Matthew was awake much earlier than he had hoped to be. It was his last night to sleep as late as he wanted (the train the next day left unreasonably early), so he was naturally disappointed to wake up to faint light streaming through his window and a clock that read 6:00. He rolled over in the bed, his own bed, and pulled the covers further over his head, but sleep would not come back to him. He stared at the ceiling, reveling in the warmth around him and the comfort of his own room. But it was too silent, too unfamiliar, and he only felt unsettled when he closed his eyes, not relaxed.

He threw off the covers and glanced at the clock again. 6:05. He was not going to get back to sleep, he realized. He supposed he should start getting ready for the day anyway. But what time should he go up to the house? He knew Mary woke up on the later side, but when was breakfast for her? Why had he not been more specific about timing? He had just been so thrilled to spend the day with her that he had picked the earliest possible and acceptable time… which was a mystery to him.

He got up out of bed and looked out the window to see the rising sun. Perhaps it was good to have this time, so he could make plans for what to do with Mary. She would want to go riding after he suggested it, he was sure, so he would plan on that. But he also wanted to have an excuse to be with her, with no major plan or activity.

Maybe a picnic, he considered. He knew Mary had a favorite spot, as she had showed it to him once on a walk around the estate. It was by the creek and completely secluded, and would be perfect for a picnic for the two of them. It would be perfect. In his excitement, he barely managed to remember to put on a dressing gown before heading down to the kitchen.

"Mrs. Byrd!" he said, bursting in the door. It was highly unusual, but he had neglected to consider that.

Mrs. Byrd looked up from whatever she was making, her eyes growing wide. "Gracious, is there some sort of emergency?"

Matthew looked over himself; he supposed he must seem rather dishevelled and frantic. "Oh, no, no, not at all. Sorry to worry you. No… but I'm not sure you've heard the news…"

"What news?" asked the cook.

"I… proposed to Lady Mary last night, and she accepted," Matthew said, trying to restrain his beaming unsuccessfully.

"Congratulations," Mrs. Byrd says. "May I ask why was it necessary to come tell me this in your pajamas at six in the morning?"

Matthew blushed sheepishly. "Well… we're going out today, and I was hoping you could make a hamper with some picnic foods? I'd like to surprise her by taking her to her favorite spot for a picnic. And I wanted to tell you as early as possible."

"Of course I can, it's been a little boring around here with just your mother to cook for," Mrs. Byrd said, waving him off. "Now go, unless you want it to be delayed."

"Thank you so much Mrs. Byrd," Matthew said eagerly. "Oh, and… by the way, I happen to know that lemon tarts are her favorite. If that would be possible to get in there…"

Mrs. Byrd nodded, pulling out a jar of flour. "I'll see what I can do. If you can live with a simple breakfast, I can have it ready by nine."

"That would be wonderful," Matthew said, grinning. "Again, thank you so much."

"Alright, get out of here," Mrs. Byrd said, although her tone was loving. "And congratulations, again."

Matthew left the kitchen and wandered slowly through Crawley House, taking everything in. It had been his home for barely two years before he left again, and yet it felt so much like home. He noticed his mother had put up several photographs in the hallway that hadn't been there before. A few of him as a little boy, as a teenager… one of him with his father and mother, just weeks before his father passed. Matthew swallowed hard against the lump in his throat as he moved down the wall. His gaze rested on his parents' wedding picture. They looked so happy, unable to tear their eyes away from each other. He would have a similar photograph soon; he and Mary would surely look just as happy. But he feared they may not have more than those few days of happiness, if even that.

He turned away from the photos and leaned against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. He could not think about that, especially not on this day. He had already warned Mary emphatically of the risks he faced, and it would not do to push his fears onto her further. Instead, he would just have to hope and pray that he made it through somehow.

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Matthew opened his eyes to see Isobel, already dressed and ready, coming down the hall. "Matthew," she said softly. "What are you doing out here?"

"I needed to ask Mrs. Byrd something, and then I was looking at these… Did you put them up recently?"

Isobel nodded, stepping back to look over the collection. "I went back to Manchester a few months ago to see Aunt Sarah, and I stopped back at our house just to make sure that everything was alright there, and I found a box of old photos that I had been searching for the last few years."

Matthew nodded. "I remember you wrote me about that. How was Manchester?"

"Same as always, still like home in some ways even though I think I've adapted quite well to living here."

"I'd love to go back someday. Hopefully I'll get a chance…" he murmured, his eyes growing unfocused.

Isobel patted his arm. "You'll get to. Now what are your plans for today?"

He brightened up a little bit at this. "Mary and I are going to go out. I think we might go riding, possibly? And I asked Mrs. Byrd to prepare a hamper for a picnic. I don't care what we do, much, I just want to spend time with her before I have to leave again."

"I'm glad you finally asked her," Isobel said, "because I'm glad to see you so happy."

"I thought you weren't happy with her, after everything that happened between us?"

Isobel laughed. "Well of course I'm not happy with anyone who hurts you, but I know that situation was complicated and both of you had your failures… but I hoped that in the end you'd overcome it. And you have."

"There will still be trials…" Matthew said, his gaze falling to the floor. "I've asked myself several times what I was thinking in asking, because I hate the idea of leaving her widowed after we've barely been married, or tying her down when so many things could go wrong. It was so selfish of me to ask, but she genuinely seemed to want it and I couldn't turn that down. Because that's what I want too."

Isobel steeled herself. She rarely got emotional, but it was difficult to hear her son talk like this, difficult to know that he was in such danger every day. But she had to be strong, especially for him. "Your love will carry you through those trials. It did for your father and I."

Matthew was silent for a minute, his mouth set, thinking about his mother's words. He turned and stared at the wall again, finally turning to Isobel. "I was looking at your wedding picture and it made me so excited for my own wedding day… I suppose I'll have to talk to my superior officers to arrange a longer leave if they'll let me."

"Of course, I'm sure they'll give you a longer time as soon as possible."

Matthew smiled. "I'm not quite as sure as you are, but I'll try my best to see what I can get. I'm sorry to not be around to plan…"

"Oh, you won't be sorry. You wouldn't want to be there to plan," Isobel replied.

"You may be right, I'll probably be happier just showing up and not worrying about any of the little details."

Isobel put an arm around him to rub his back gently. "You won't notice anything but Mary, I'm certain."

"I must say I believe you, considering I hardly notice anything but her now."

Isobel began to lead him out of the hallway, towards the drawing room. "I'm so proud of you, my dear boy. And so glad you're going to be happy."

Matthew took a deep breath before smiling at her. "I'm glad too. No matter what happens, at least I have this time."

"Now go get dressed, the day will pass before you know it!" Isobel said, kissing his cheek and shooing him upstairs.

Matthew stopped as he climbed the stairs to look down around his home, down into the hallway. Yes, he would be happy. For as long as he could be with Mary, he would be happy.

* * *

After much deliberation, Matthew decided that ten o'clock was a reasonable time to go up to the Abbey to see Mary. He couldn't have waited much longer anyway, so eager was he to see her. He couldn't seem to get there fast enough, really. But when he arrived, a sudden wave of anxiety swept over him. Was he too early? Was he too late, and had she been waiting for hours? Had it all just been a dream, and would she laugh when she heard what he believed?

It did seem almost too good to be true.

But he knocked on the front door anyway. He couldn't let his irrational fears cause him to lose out on any time he had with Mary.

And of course, when Carson opened the door and he walked into the hall, all his fears melted away upon seeing a beaming Mary rush out to greet him. She restrained herself right before she stopped in front of him, but her ecstasy was clear. She was dressed for outdoor activity, as far as Matthew could tell, and she was glowing in her beauty.

His jaw dropped and it took him a few moments to regain his composure. He loved her so much, so much. How could he be so lucky?

"Well…" he started. "Did you want to go ride today?"

"I would love to," Mary said. "I suppose it's about time you prove to me that you can."

He grinned and took her arm in his, enjoying the simple closeness they could now partake in. "Show me the way to the stables, then."

Mary guided him behind the house a ways to a group of outbuildings. Matthew could hear and smell the horses before he could see them; in a way it was a sort of comfort.

"You know, we used to have quite a few horses around out on the front," he said, as they approached.

"Yes, Papa sold a few of ours to the army. I was desperately sad, but I managed to persuade him to keep Diamond. But I must sound awfully spoiled to you."

Matthew pursed his lips, but they turned up in a smile at her self awareness. "A little bit."

"I recognize it was a very small sacrifice to make in the grand scheme of this war," she justified. "But you said 'used to', what happened to all the horses?"

His eyes grew glassy for a moment, but Mary's realization and her insistent tug brought him back. "A lot of them were killed. Otherwise, they've been gradually phased out in favor of mechanical vehicles. More reliable, and much less grief if a hunk of metal gets destroyed."

"I'm glad. No horse deserves to be out there. No human does, either."

"Unfortunately, war has consumed our nation and it doesn't look like it'll end anytime soon," Matthew said, his tone cynical.

Mary frowned. "Let's not talk about that now. Let's enjoy our happiness, fleeting as it could be, before the war takes over our lives again."

Matthew took a deep breath and nodded, trying to cleanse his mind of all intrusive thoughts about the war. "Yes, let's. Now you have Diamond, but you've got to find a horse for me. Something gentle please. I may ride, but I'm not an expert like you are."

Mary did choose a gentle horse for Matthew, before mounting Diamond and trotting towards the expansive grounds. "Anywhere in particular you would like to go?" she asks Matthew, as he tentatively pulled up beside her.

"Actually, yes. And I think I remember how to get there…"

"Well, that's fine, if you forget I can help. I've ridden all over here, I know it very well," Mary offered.

"The thing is… I'd like the place to be a surprise. So we'll have to rely on my possibly misguided sense of direction."

Mary pulled up next to him, her laugh light and genuine. "Alright, lead the way then."

They rode along the creek that twisted through the grounds, Matthew stopping every so often to adjust to his surroundings and hope that he was headed in the right direction. They talked the whole time, talked of everything and nothing. Neither of them mentioned the war; they didn't need to. They didn't want to remember that this bliss had to end at some point.

"Do you know," Mary said, as Matthew pulled his horse away from the path to look around again, "your riding skills are much more impressive than your navigation skills."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Matthew asked, as he consulted the map of the grounds that he had managed to find years ago in Robert's library.

"Perhaps both," Mary said, glancing around. "That said, I think I know where you're taking me; would you rather I lead?"

Matthew looked at the map one more time, then at his fiancee's amused expression. "You probably better. Where do you think I'm taking you?"

"The enclave by the creek. The one surrounded by the willows, where I took you that one time right before…"

"Right before the war started," Matthew filled in. As much as it was painful to mention the war, it was arguably worse to mention the disaster that had been their previous engagement.

Mary plastered a smile and nodded. "Yes. Right."

"Have you gone back there since?" Matthew asked, as the horses started up again, Mary now leading.

She didn't turn around to face him, her gaze facing steadily forward. "Yes. A few times. I wanted to remember when we were on the cusp of happiness."

"I'm sure this will be a much happier time then," Matthew said.

Mary smiled. "Yes. After last night, really, everything is much brighter, much happier now."

As it turned out, Matthew was really not that far from their intended destination ("See, I knew where I was going" he protested, to which Mary responded with a characteristic eye roll) and as the distinctive overgrown willow trees came into view, they got off the horses and tied the leads to tree branches. Matthew took the hamper off of the back of his horse and pulled aside the branches, gesturing for Mary to go through. The trees disguised a beautiful green clearing sitting next to the flowing creek. It was completely secluded and completely peaceful.

"I asked Mrs. Byrd to prepare some luncheon for us, if you'd like that now," Matthew said.

"Oh good," Mary replied. "I hardly thought about that, and I hardly ate breakfast because everyone was too busy asking me about your proposal. I could barely get in a bite between at least four retellings of the story."

Matthew spread out a blanket that he had brought along, laughing. "I hope you're alright with sitting on the ground."

"Well it wouldn't quite be proper…" Mary began hesitantly.

Matthew's face fell. "Well of course, if you…"

"But no one will know out here, and I certainly don't mind a little impropriety once in a while," she said, sitting down gracefully and grinning at him.

Matthew sat down next to her, much less gracefully, and shook his head. "You are a cruel woman," he said, scooting closer to her along the ground. "I don't suppose that another sort of impropriety would bother you, given the circumstances."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't know what you're talking about."

He brought his face close to hers. "Oh, I think you do."

She did.

Their lips joined, long repressed passion overwhelming their senses as Matthew's hands touched Mary's neatly arranged hair, needing to get closer, needing to have her for this moment. Mary's hands clasped around his neck, leaning into the kiss. Their first kisses had been wonderful, and the one last night had been magical, of course, but nothing like this. No, Mary had never experienced anything like this.

Neither had Matthew. He closed his eyes and soaked in the pure bliss of her lips on his, a sensation of love flooding through him as he kissed her. Why had he waited so long? Why had he been so stubborn? He had missed out on so much. He loved her so much. How could he bear to leave her again?

Eventually, they had to break apart for air. Mary kept her arms around him, Matthew kept his hands in her hair, hoping not to break the connection. For a second, they stared at each other, and then large grins grew across both of their faces.

"Well that was…" Matthew started, breathlessly.

Mary laughed as he stumbled over words, his eyes wide and his smile wide. She shook her head and leaned in again before he could say anything. This time, they knew what to expect but that didn't decrease their pleasure in any way. As they got closer, their excitement overwhelming, Matthew managed to knock over the picnic basket somehow. Out spilled the lunch that Mrs. Byrd had prepared, thankfully wrapped up in paper, but it distracted him nonetheless.

"I'm sorry, we probably should be more careful," he said, pulling away and trying to pick up the spilled food.

Mary tugged on his arm and pulled him back. "Who cares about being careful when we have so little time?"

"That sounds unlike you," Matthew replied.

"Two years of war can change a woman," Mary said.

He put the last of the food in a basket. "They can change a man, too."

Mary put her hands on his face, pulling him even closer to her. "Let's not think of that now, though. Because you know what else can change a person in a beautiful way? Love."

Matthew grinned. "I won't disagree with that."

"So kiss me again?"

"Gladly."

Their time together was too short; eventually, after more than a few more kisses and a delicious lunch, Mary and Matthew conceded that they should head back. Slowly, they packed up the hamper, kissing several more times, struggling to break away.

"Back to real life," Mary said sadly, as she ducked beneath the willow branches to exit their enclave.

Matthew sighed as he untied his horse's lead from the tree. "It's still not quite real life for me; that will come when I step off the train tomorrow. Everything here… it feels like a dream."

"A pleasant one, I hope," Mary said, taking her own horse and setting up to mount.

She did not notice Matthew's loving gaze on her as under his breath he whispered, "The most pleasant."

The ride back was slow, intentionally so. Neither of them wanted it to end. Of course, they could spend the evening together, but it would not be the same.

Eventually, they could not responsibly delay any longer, and the stable came back into sight. They entered in, dismounted their horses, and walked back out, hand in hand. Very restrained, very respectful.

Until they were out of eyeshot of any grooms, and then Matthew pulled Mary against the wall and brought her face close to his. Mary was shocked for the first few seconds, as this seemed so out of character and daring for Matthew, but she melted into the kiss that he planted on her lips.

They pulled back, breathless, and leaned against the stable wall, laughing and grinning at each other.

"What was that?" Mary whispered.

He shrugged, his smile wide. "I couldn't resist. I'm making the most of what I know we have."

She turned back to him. "Well, I think I like this Matthew."

"I would hope you do, since you agreed to marry him," he replied. "Is there something new about this particular Matthew?"

Mary kissed his cheek. "Courage. Courage to love."

"I'll take that, if you'll kiss me again."

There was no protest of any form.

* * *

"Matthew," Isobel said, tapping him on the shoulder. "I think it's time we head back."

Dinner had been nice enough. Everyone expressed their excitement for the upcoming wedding, pressed the pair about details, and asked how their engagement had taken place (they shared some details, but not everything). Cora, however, was more reserved. She did not say anything, instead observing the chatter, frowning when she believed no one was looking but plastering on a smile for most of the dinner. Mary observed her mother carefully; the tension between them was still palpable.

Thankfully, she had been seated next to Matthew at dinner (much to her surprise- perhaps Sybil had something to do with it again). When he noticed Mary's glances at her mother, he squeezed her hand under the table. She turned to him with a gentle smile. "It's alright," she whispered.

Mary had not told him about her fight with Cora, but he knew that everything was not fine. He squeezed her hand in his again in a gesture of silent support.

Mary didn't look over in Cora's direction again, not until dinner was over. She had all she needed sitting right next to her.

When the ladies went through to the drawing room, Mary did everything in her power to stay away from her mother; she could not fight again and cast a mood over this night. Instead, she settled herself next to Isobel. Mary realized she had never really talked all that much to Isobel, and she quite enjoyed it. That was a good thing, since it very suddenly hit her that Isobel was to be her mother-in-law. She really ought to get to know Isobel better.

She was delighted, however, when Matthew came back in. She wanted to spend all the time with him possible.

Which was why, when Isobel told Matthew that it was time to go, Mary grabbed his arm and gave him a glance that no one could translate. No one but him, anyway.

Matthew understood what Mary was trying to say. She wanted him to stay, and if he was honest, he wanted to stay as well. He didn't want to leave his mother alone for the evening, but his heart was at Downton. "If it doesn't trouble you, Mother, I'd like to stay here a little longer. I'll walk home if I have to."

Isobel frowned. Clearly she wanted to spend time with her boy, but she understood that his sudden engagement changed things. "Of course, dear. We'll say our goodbyes in the morning if you're back too late."

Matthew grinned and kissed Isobel's cheek affectionately. "Thank you, Mother."

Slowly, the rest of the family left the drawing room, saying their goodnights and goodbyes, until it was only Matthew and Mary left.

"This feels strangely familiar," Matthew said, sitting down in an armchair and reaching for Mary to come sit down on his lap. He pulled her closer and rested his head on her shoulder, gently kissing her cheek.

"A little. Wrong room, though."

He sighed. "Well, yes, but the two of us… Alone, together."

She turned to face him. "This day has been so lovely. So utterly, utterly lovely."

"I agree. I'll hold onto these memories. They'll sustain me. Whenever I'm afraid, I'll think of you, my darling."

Mary was always hesitant to broach the subject of the war, but her curiosity overwhelmed her. "What… what did you think of before?"

Matthew's eyes widened, as if he was not expecting such a question. He paused for a second before he whispered, "You. It was always you."

She had to turn away from him as emotion threatened to overwhelm her. How could they have been so stupid? They had wasted so much time, and now nothing was certain. If the worst happened, how could she not regret those wasted years? As she tried to hold back tears that threatened to overwhelm her, her shoulders began to shake.

Matthew immediately noticed, and drew his arms tighter around her, resting his head on her shoulder. "Shh, my darling, it's alright."

"I just… I wish so many things had turned out differently. I wish we had not been so stupid two years ago, I wish this war had not started, I wish…"

He rubbed her back soothingly. "It's alright. I wish all those things too. But everything happened the way it did for a reason, and now we're here. I know there's so much uncertainty, but I swear to you, I will try my damn hardest to come back to you. Because I want to be married to you for years and years, until we're old and gray. And we'll make it through. I know you'll make it through, you're the strongest woman I've ever met."

"You think so?" Mary's voice wavered. "There's a lot of times that I certainly don't think so."

"I know so," he said. "And I need you to keep being strong. For your family. For me."

Mary met his impossibly blue, irresistible gaze. "I'll do my best."

"Good," he said, before gently but abruptly moving her out of the chair. Mary could just

barely see his eyes glazing over, staring into space and yet to somewhere she had never seen. "I've just realized I really ought to get home."

Mary stood up and walked to the window. "You'd best call Branson, it's raining pretty hard. We can't have our soldier catching a cold out there."

Matthew glanced up at the clock. "Oh, I can't do that, it's too late. He's probably already asleep. I'm fine with walking."

"I'm not going to let you walk a mile in the rain," Mary said. "I'm surprised it's coming down so hard, it was so pleasant out today."

Matthew shrugged. "Nothing like an English summer I suppose. Well, I'm not going to wake Branson so it appears we are at an impasse."

"I'll ask Mrs. Hughes to make up a bedroom for you, that should be pretty quick. You can head out tomorrow morning from here, no one will mind."

He frowned. "Are you sure that's alright?"

"Of course. We have so many bedrooms in this place, we might as well use them."

"Very well, then, as long as it's not too much of a disruption," Matthew conceded. In truth, he was very tired and the idea of not having to get home was rather appealing at the moment.

Mary rang the bell and turned back to him. "What time is your train?"

"Early. 6 or 6:30, I think," he said. "I'll be back to the front by this time tomorrow."

She sighed and took his hand. "I don't like to think of that."

"Neither do I."

Carson came into the room, interrupting their impassioned gaze. "Milady, what is it you need?"

"Ah, yes, Carson, Mr. Crawley will be needing a room tonight. It is raining too hard for him to walk home, and he refuses to wake Mr. Branson."

Carson nodded, turning off in an efficient but dignified manner to complete his task. Mary turned back to Matthew. "Well, I suppose I ought to let you get to bed. I'll get up early tomorrow to see you off."

"You don't have to do that," Matthew said.

"Of course I do, you're my fiancee."

Despite himself, he smiled. "Fiancee. I like that."

"So do I."

* * *

 _I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much I enjoyed writing MM's day together! We're both blown away by how much love and support this fic has gotten already, so thank you to everyone for reading and following and favoriting and especially reviewing! Please, if you can, leave a review on this chapter. It really is the most encouraging thing you can do, and as life picks up and gets crazy again for both of us it's really helpful to have that encouragement to set aside time and keep writing. Again, thank you!_

 _-alliluna_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hold On Through the Dark**_

 _ **Chapter 4**_

 _ **by: galindadaae and alliluna**_

* * *

Mary turned over once more in her bed as lightning momentarily brightened the room. She couldn't seem to sleep, for obvious reasons. Her fiancé was leaving in hours for a horrifying war and after those few precious hours she knew she might never see him again. Always thinking herself to be a rational person, Mary attempted to ignore these thoughts and focus on anything not related to Matthew. But she found her mind wandering to Downton, which reminded her of the wedding, which reminded her of Matthew…

Finally, unable to bear laying awake motionlessly and accepting her sleepless fate, Mary slipped out of bed and into a pair of slippers. She began to head where she always had when she was up in the middle of the night. The library. She padded softly as she could down the stairs in order to avoid waking anyone. As there was barely any light, she held on tight to the bannister, but her feet made sure she knew the way.

Mary approached the library, and saw a dim light emanating from it. Had a servant left a candle lit? It seemed unlikely- Carson would never allow such a potentially dangerous slip-up. Someone must have already claimed her refuge from night and the storm. But who? Mary peeked around the open door just enough to make out who the figure was.

Sure enough, it was her fiancé. Mary smiled gently. So it seemed neither of them were able to sleep tonight. Somehow they always found their way back to each other. (Mary would have to remember that for the coming months). For now, though, she emerged from her hiding spot.

"What are you doing up?" She stayed by the doorway. She looked ethereally beautiful with her billowing nightgown and hair tumbling down nearly to her waist.

Matthew looked up, startled. He hadn't expected to be disturbed. His eyes were more haunted than Mary had ever seen.

"I could ask you the same," he responded finally. He stared past her, barely seeing her there. He was so lost in horror that his mind couldn't comprehend how beautiful she looked.

"I couldn't sleep," she said simply.

"Me neither," he muttered bitterly. His eyes were dark and cold.

Mary was confused by this behavior. "Matthew?" she whispered.

He looked up, eyes truly focusing on her for the first time since she entered. "I'm fine, really. It's just that sometimes the thunder during these storms sounds like—"

"Shells," she finished for him. He swallowed and nodded. She walked over to him. An angel to save him from reliving his hell before he absolutely had to do so. She sat next to him on the same couch where they had declared their love just a day prior. How fast their time was flying. Would their love ever get a chance to catch a breath?

Mary gently took his hand in both of hers, and kissed the back of it softly before pressing it to her cheek. Matthew gasped at the contact.

"What can I do to help you, Matthew?" Her voice was the slightest bit raspy. The way his name slipped off her tongue was sensual and inviting. He accepted the invitation.

"God Mary, just kiss me, please."

She did. Mary captured his lips in a bruising kiss, her hands slipping so naturally already into his hair. She was most surprised, however, at the ferocity with which he grabbed the back of her neck so he could pull her closer to him. Their lips moved together with such fervour until kissing alone wasn't enough. Matthew's lips travelled down to her throat. He could feel her pulse accelerating as he continued and he smiled into her neck. He couldn't believe he had such an effect on her! And her on him, as he let out a huff of air in surprise when he felt Mary's cold hand on his chest and realized she had started to undo the top buttons of his nightshirt.

Mary decided she still wasn't close enough to Matthew. Being next to him wasn't enough. She was safe with him. She could be as wanton as she wanted. He was going to be her husband, wasn't he? Her mother's voice interrupted her for just a moment, reminding her that Matthew becoming her husband wasn't certain. But this was the only night they knew they would have. So she made the choice to leap over the edge, into the unknown. To give herself to him.

She stood up and enjoyed Matthew's eyes scanning her body, only her nightgown protecting her modesty. Mary moved down to sit in his lap, and after a moment of surprise, Matthew resumed his ministrations. He was learning her body and she his. After Mary found a sensitive spot behind Matthew's ear and heard his groan, she leaned back and met his eyes. They were both breathing heavily and had the slightest of smiles on their faces.

Mary had just reached back to undo the ties of her nightdress, when to her surprise, Matthew's hand stopped her.

"Mary, what are you…"

"...Don't you want this?"

"Yes, of course, but…"

"Make love to me, Matthew. Who knows if we'll ever get another chance?" She looked into his eyes and leaned in to kiss him. He responded for a moment, but soon pulled away.

"We can't." He shook his head. Mary looked away and slid off of his lap. She tried to cover herself up as much as she could to conceal her sudden burst of shame and embarrassment. She wasn't used to being the the one putting herself out on a limb.

"Mary…" Matthew's hand brushed her arm, but she shrugged away from his touch and walked to the center of the room. How could she have made such a fool of herself?

"I thought you would want to." She felt more vulnerable than ever. Suddenly she was back on the couch the night before, where everything between herself and Matthew was in the air. "I'm sorry if I was wrong."

She had just turned to leave when Matthew's hand brushed her arm, silently asking her to turn around and face him.

He spoke gently. "I want you with every fiber of my entire being. In fact, I don't think I've ever wanted something so badly in my entire life. But it's not fair to make love to you and then leave you behind when we aren't even properly married."

"It's not as if I have virtue to save," she protested.

"You know you do." His devoted yet firm tone left Mary no room for argument. She began to protest anyway, but Matthew raised an eyebrow at her until she shut her mouth reluctantly. He opened his arms to her, beckoning her to come home to him while he was only feet away instead of countries away. She walked into them, and pressed her head to his chest. They swayed back and forth for a couple minutes, just enjoying the simplest of facts, like Mary's hair tickling his nose or Matthew's heartbeat pulsing steadily in her ears. A single tear dropped down from Mary's eye as she held him even tighter.

"I love you," she whispered- so quietly she thought there was no way he could have heard her. But she felt his lips press into her hair and his grip around her tightened to hold her even closer.

After another few minutes of silence, Matthew whispered into Mary's ear. "I have an idea."

Mary secretly wished the idea would be that they run away together and escape this wretched war, but naturally didn't voice this opinion. She couldn't allow him to think she'd gone entirely soft. She took a cleansing breath. "What is this thrilling idea?" she asked instead.

Matthew let go of Mary and went to sit on the floor by the candle he brought, with his legs crossed like a child. The candlelight made his golden hair glow, and he looked so utterly boyish that Mary had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at him. When she didn't move, he gestured for her to come over.

Rolling her eyes, Mary made her way to her very silly fiance. She sat opposite him on the carpet. "I see we are on the floor again," Mary commented.

"It seems we are," Matthew playfully retorted.

"And your idea is..." she prompted when he continued to gaze into her eyes.

He took her hand. "I was thinking that since we don't know if we get a future past tonight, we should figure out a way to get it anyways."

"I'm a bit lost. You want to do what?" Matthew found Mary's confused face to be entirely adorable, but wanted to make sure she understood what he meant.

"We can have everything if we plan it all tonight." Mary was still confused, so Matthew pressed on. "Let's write our story now. And if I die in this war, we will still have had a full one."

"Plan our entire life together? Tonight?" Mary sounded a bit unsure.

"Yes." She looked away from him, contemplating.

"Well then, you start," she said. "I don't know how."

Matthew thought for a moment. "Naturally," he began, "whenever I get my next leave, we will get married. And you will show up in a beautiful dress. The flower girls will be a handful and Mrs. Hughes will chase them around all day."

"You'll...be in your red mess kit. Mama and I will argue about flowers for hours until you write in a letter that you support my choice no matter what, so I win."

"We will honeymoon...darling, where do you want to honeymoon?"

"I don't think I'll be focusing on the location too much, if I'm honest." Matthew couldn't resist the urge to lean over and peck her on the lips.

"And we write letters all of the time," he continued.

"I worry about you."

"And I worry about you."

"And the war ends, and you're safe and sound."

"You tell me you're pregnant." Matthew's voice choked the tiniest bit.

"Our child is born, perfect, with his father right there beside me. It's a hard labor, and I could hear you outside the door, begging to be let in the whole time, but I don't let you. You're mad at me, but when you see him everything else fades away."

"We're going to have a son?" Mary felt Matthew's hand rubbing up and down her leg through the thin layer of fabric. She resisted the instinctual urge to move away.

"In this story of us we are."

Matthew moved the candle so he could sit on the floor against the couch, allowing Mary to nestle herself in between his legs. He entwined their hands. They settled in for a long night of planning. Matthew kissed Mary on the cheek. Mary wanted to shy away from all of this affection. It was like a tsunami overwhelming her, and all of her mind was telling her to hide from him. After tomorrow morning, she would be allowed to be a coward. But in this moment, she chose to open her heart for as long as she could. She felt Matthew take a breath.

"So what do we decide to name our son?"

* * *

The light was just barely streaming in through her window as Mary woke up. The storm had ended late in the night, the rain tapering off and the lightning stopping completely. The sun was rising in a clear sky.

Mary blinked, adjusting to the light, before immediately sitting up in bed. How late had she slept? She had hoped to see Matthew off, but she knew his train was early, and likely she had slept past it. She glanced at the clock. Five thirty. So, not as bad as she had anticipated, but if she wanted to catch Matthew, she would have to hurry.

She didn't even bother ringing for Anna. She couldn't remember the last time she had dressed herself, but without even thinking about it, she put on her clothes, tucked her hair in a hat, and hurried out through the servants door. She would have to run to the train station to catch him. Such an action was unfamiliar to her, but as she started up the gravel drive, her mind was completely focused on getting to the station, she could not care about the discomfort of her heeled shoes, or the fact that she still had two miles to go after reaching the end of the long winding drive into Downton.

She dug her hand into her pocket, squeezing the small object in it. She had not forgotten that.

Perhaps it would bring her luck to make it in time.

* * *

The gravel crunched under his feet as he approached the drive to Crawley House. The sun had broken across the horizon, casting long shadows over the dewy ground. Perhaps he should have asked for the car to take him to the station, but the walk to his home to get his things was pleasant enough and a good time for him to think.

The night before had been so perfect it almost seemed as if it was a dream. He had thought about waking Mary to say goodbye, but it had been so early and he didn't have the heart to disturb her, not after their late night and perfectly romantic parting. If he died with the memory of her face, lit up by candlelight and the joy of their conversation, that would be enough for him.

When he knocked on the door of Crawley House, to his surprise his mother opened it. "Mother, what are you doing up this early?" he asked, as she brought him into the hallway.

"I had to say goodbye, of course. I got all your things together, and I packed a lunch for the train," she said, handing him his bag and a small paper sack, pressing it into his hands as if he were a small child on his way to school rather than a man being sent off to war. She swallowed hard and put her hands on his shoulders. "I love you, and I know you'll do your best to come back to us. Stay safe, don't try to be a hero, and… oh, I know you will. You have more than me to come back to now."

"I'll do everything I can," he replied. "You know I will."

"Of course I do," Isobel said. She kissed his cheek and let go of him. "As much as I'd like you to stay, you'd best be off, or you'll miss your train. Goodbye, my darling boy. Come back safe."

Matthew moved towards the door, taking one last longing look down the hallway of his home. "Goodbye, Mother. I'll try my best. After all, I have a wedding to attend."

* * *

When Mary arrived at the train station, exhausted and panting, there was no waiting train. Her heart sank. Had she missed it? She glanced around desperately to find a clock, a time table, anything that might give her a glimmer of hope that her panicked journey had not been in vain.

She did not have to hope for long; a faraway whistle transformed into a cloud of steam as the train pulled in. Better than that, though, emerging from the cloud was Matthew. Mary took him in; he was dressed in his military uniform and it became him so well. He was so different from the young man she had fallen in love with. He was older, leaner, and walked with a confidence that she had not seen in him before. As much as she hated how the war had affected it, could not help but appreciate how handsome he was in spite of, or perhaps because of, it.

Mary could hardly contain herself from running toward him, but managed to retain at least a sense of decorum as she stepped towards him on the platform, never taking her eyes off of him. "I needed to come see you off. Why didn't you wake me?" she asked.

"I couldn't, not after our late night and how perfect it was," he said. "I wasn't about to ask a servant for the way to your bedroom and terrify you by being in there."

She shrugged. "You wouldn't have, but I suppose it doesn't matter now. I made it to say goodbye."

"Yes, I've never seen the prim and proper Lady Mary quite so disheveled in public," Matthew joked.

Mary lightly hit his arm.

"But of course, I'm not sure I've ever seen her quite so beautiful, either," he finished, his eyes the very picture of sincerity. "Really though, you must have been up before the servants."

Mary laughed. "They were rather surprised to see me. Anyway, I wanted to give you this." She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a small stuffed dog, pressing it into his hand. "It's my lucky charm. I've had it always. So, you must promise to bring it back without a scratch."

He took the toy in his hand, squeezing it gently. He lifted his eyes up to meet Mary's. "Won't you need it?"

"Not as much as you. So look after it. Please," she said, her voice almost desperate. He immediately knew what she was asking. _Please, please, please, come back to me._

There was little he could say to put her at ease, but he tried his best. "I'll try not to be a hero, if that's what you're afraid of." He wasn't lying. Before this leave, perhaps, he might have been more reckless. So many other men had wives and children to go back to. He had a family, of course, and he hardly dared to think of what his mother would go through if the worst were to happen… but back then, it would have been better him than so many of the others. But now… now he would do everything he could to come back.

Mary blinked back the tears that were threatening to escape. She had never had to do this before, never had to send someone off when she was not sure she would see them again. Her voice was strangled as she whispered, "Please, just come back safe and sound."

He put the dog in his coat pocket and took both of her hands in his. "I promise, I'll do everything I can." He too felt the tears threatening to spill over. Would this be how it went every time they said goodbye? Would he even have a next time?

"Did you have a good time yesterday?" Mary asked, hoping to move on to a nicer topic now that she had given him her charm.

Matthew's face lit up momentarily. "The most wonderful, Mary… I'm so glad we had that. I could not have imagined a better day." He squeezed her hands and smiled at her, before being pulled out of his reverie by the blowing of the train whistle. His face immediately fell, and his tone grew more serious. "Mary, if I don't come back…"

"But…" Mary resolutely shook her head, not even entertaining the notion.

"No." Matthew's tone was harsher than he wanted it to be, but he had to make her understand. "If I don't come back… then please remember how glad, how thrilled I am that we made up when we had the chance. That we found each other without wasting any more time. I mean it. You send me off to war a happy man. And just the thought, just the chance of having you as my wife…. I'm sure that will keep me going. Because believe me, I want to have our wedding. I would marry you right now, if it were proper!" His emotion was threatening to overwhelm him.

Mary immediately embraced him, without thought for propriety or decorum. "Oh, my darling, so would I." The tears were beginning to escape, but she did not wipe them away, because she could not let go of him.

The train whistle blew more urgently, and Matthew reluctantly stepped back, trying to disguise his sniffling. Finally he composed himself. "Write to me. As often as you can."

"Of course I will. And I'll wait anxiously for your responses," Mary replied, taking the chance to wipe her weepy eyes. She took a glance over at the train. "I'd best let you go, although it takes every fibre of my being to do it. Goodbye then, and such good luck!" She approached him closer and kissed him, as if she might not ever kiss him again. For all she knew, she might not.

"Goodbye, Mary," he says, unable to tear his eyes away. "I love you."

With that, he pulled himself away from her and stepped onto the train, although he did not look away from her until she was out of sight, a tiny dot on the platform.

Matthew had hardly been away for a minute, and he already missed her. How would he survive the next weeks and months? He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small dog. He gripped onto it tightly. He would make it home.

* * *

 **This chapter took us forever to write as real life started to kick our butts. But personally, we think the result was worth the wait and we hope you think so too! Thanks for reading (and hopefully reviewing)- it means the absolute world to us. Next up: What happens once Mary and Matthew are separated?**


	5. Chapter 5

He felt the train lurch forward, and he silently bade farewell to his home- for truly, Downton was his home. It had been his home ever since he had fallen in love with Mary, though he didn't know how much longer he would be around to call it home. He tried to push the thought away, but it wasn't much use since he was on the train back to France. Back to the muck, rats, hell, and death- and away from his guiding light. When he thought of her, she was softly smiling at him, and there was a sort of halo around her. She was fuzzy at the edges.

He looked out the window, but Downton Station had disappeared into the ever-present mist of the English countryside. He took off his cap and sighed. Matthew was still convinced in a small part of him that their engagement was a mistake. Not because he didn't love Mary, but because he loved her too much. He worried that if he died it would hurt her deeply, and he couldn't stand the thought of her going through that pain. Well, he thought, he would be dead, he wouldn't be around to know. But what if he remained after his death as some spirit or apparition? He could not watch Mary go through such pain.

Matthew tried to gain traction over the thoughts he knew were spiralling out of control. What was he thinking? Haunting her for evermore? He was a silly man who was trying not to be paralyzed by fear.

He refocused his thoughts on Mary. If he really tried, he could make her fuzzy edges come into focus. He could see the way the gloves twisted slightly going up her arms, and the necklace that was draped down her back. He could see her hands grabbing at her day skirt whenever he was around.

He thought of her girlish smile when he said that they 'should see more of each other,' and of her dark eyes when he leaned in to kiss her less than twenty-four hours earlier by the willow trees. He would come back, he decided. She deserved for him to come home. She deserved to have him, Downton, a family- everything she wanted and more. Matthew knew she would be happy enough if he simply got through the damn war in one piece, but he wanted to give her more. Giving her anything less than his best was not even worth thinking of.

He thought of their wedding and how large it was going to be. Well, perhaps not as large as Mary once imagined her wedding to be, but as large as the wartime would allow. It would still be much grander of an affair than anything he ever expected to have. He wouldn't be strictly comfortable marrying her in front of rich toffs he had never met, but he would do it. She would show up looking like an angel, and truly that was all he cared about.

They would vow their love to each other, and would be bound together. He would slip the wedding ring onto her slender finger- they both would be teary- and next to her engagement ring.

Which, with a start, Matthew realized he never gave her.

He resisted the urge to hit his head against the window. Cousin Violet would certainly have some uncharitable things to say if he engaged in that kind of behavior. They were supposed to marry on his next leave. That meant he wouldn't be able to give Mary her engagement ring in person. He could have kicked himself! He dragged his hand across his forehead, trying to think of a solution.

He knew where her engagement ring was. He had had it since the summer of 1914. They were much younger then- even though it had only been two years, he and Mary had become much different people. Fortunately, their love had not been dulled by this time but strengthened and fortified. Even when their relationship went down in a puff of smoke, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of that ring.

The ring was still in his room, hidden in its small box on one of his bookshelves. He wasn't sure how to present it to her when he was in France. Of course, he _could_ just get Molesley to take it to Downton and present it to her, but that was decidedly unromantic (and therefore decidedly unlike Matthew).

Minutes later, as the train chugged along, he came up with an idea on how to deliver the ring to its rightful owner. Matthew dug around in the case he took onto the train, finding some pieces of paper and a pen. He would have to be careful with the ink since the train was moving, but it was no matter. He grabbed a book to write on and quickly began to scratch his pen across the page.

* * *

Isobel was surprised to receive a letter from Matthew in the post the very next day. Nothing got back from France that quickly, and he would hardly have needed to write her while still in England…

She tore open the letter and quickly understood.

 _Dearest Mother,_

 _I know you're wondering why I'm writing already. Don't worry- nothing is wrong. I am simply a foolish man who forgot something very important. As I was leaving the station, I realized that I had failed to give Mary her engagement ring. I had one for her… the one I bought back in 1914. I realized I will not have a chance to give it to her in person before the wedding._

 _This is where you come in. I need you to give her the ring. As much as I want to be physically present to give it to her, I cannot be, so you must give it to her, along with the letter that I have enclosed in this envelope. The ring is on my bookshelf, in front of the Shakespearean tragedies (please don't question the irony there) and hopefully should be in good condition still, but if it needs to be cleaned, please take care of that. I bought it for her in 1914, and I'm glad to finally have a chance to use it. Give it to her privately; invite her to tea at Crawley House so that you can ensure the rest of the family is not around. After you've given the letter to her, let her be alone for a little while. I know she will appreciate it. I don't believe I have any more specific instructions, but please show her that she is loved. I cannot be there in person, but I will be there in spirit. Frankly, I probably will remember other things I want you to do for this after I have posted this letter, but I must let those go. For Mary, I want to do everything, but I can only do so much. This is not ideal but hopefully it will be enough. Thank you, Mother, for all your help with this._

 _I promise I'll write you a less spur-of-the-moment letter soon, but this was urgent (and I apologize for the abysmal handwriting- the train is not particularly conducive to this). For now, however, I must leave this letter here. Thank you again, and please write to me and tell me how it goes. I will be anxiously waiting to know when Mary has the ring that has been there for her for so long._

 _Your loving son,_

 _Matthew_

Isobel wiped away a stray tear that seemed to have escaped, and checked to make sure his letter to Mary was still in the envelope. It was, and it was rather thick by the looks of it. Satisfied, she set the envelope down and headed towards Matthew's bedroom to find the ring.

This couldn't make up for him being there in person, she knew, but she was determined to make it as close as possible.

* * *

Mary rose from her bed, and looked out the window. A grey and foggy English morning moved over the hills of the estate. It reflected her mood of the last week since Matthew left. She rose early each morning so she could ride- it helped her clear her mind and focus on the day ahead. She could release many of her fears about Matthew's safety and their future during the vigorous routes (with levels of skill required that her fiance probably wouldn't approve of). Then, after bringing her horse back to the stable and sinking into her bath, she was able, at least in part, to wash the anxiety away. A mask of impassiveness came over her features, and she was ready to face the rest of the day.

But today she wouldn't be able to go on such an intense ride. It would be reckless of her to do so when the ground outside was so slick. Yet the thought of simply ignoring her routine of the last week filled her with anxiety. She would go on a slow ride. It felt odd not to do anything when Matthew was gone. When her heart raced, in a small way, she felt connected to how he must be feeling in the trenches. It made the distance between them seem smaller, if only a little.

Before his last leave, when everything was still broken between them, she was able to quell her fear for him by reassuring herself that he was not thinking of her. He was not hers to worry about. Now, though, she hated sitting around all day and idly passing the hours. It seemed her life was spent in the drawing room, waiting to receive a telegram about Matthew. And it had only been a week! She didn't know how to deal with all of these feelings, so she did what she was best at. She ignored them.

Mary got up from her bed and rang for Anna. Anna was being quite careful around Mary these last couple of days. It's not that Mary's temper was in danger of flaring up- and it was not that Anna was prone to ever making a mistake. It was more simply that Anna cared for her mistress and didn't want to do anything to contribute to the anxiety she could tell Mary was hiding.

* * *

Later that morning, having gone on her ride and bathed, Mary went down to breakfast with her father and sisters. When she arrived, she saw that she was the last one down for the morning, and even her mother was present at the table. Mary grabbed a plate and served herself a small portion. She schooled her face into one of relative impassiveness.

She walked over to take her seat in between her mother and Sybil and broke the tenuous silence in the room (as all of the others- well, maybe not as much Edith) were trying to gauge Mary's mood for the day and adjust accordingly.

"What are you doing down so early, Mama?" Mary asked.

Her mother peered over at her. "I have a meeting in the village rather early in the day, and I knew if I stayed in bed I should never want to leave."  
"I don't blame you," Robert replied with a slight smile. But then he thought of Mary and the need to keep her mind distracted. "Of course, there is so much to do and take care of." Mary was absorbed in her plate. He prompted her, "Don't you agree, Mary?"

"Yes, of course, Papa."

"So what are your plans for today, my darling girl?"

"I'm not sure actually. I am quite tired from my ride earlier so perhaps I'll just read a book. It's not as if the weather today is conducive to going outside." Mary smiled briefly and then went back to looking at her plate. This weather was certainly having an effect on her mood. She was just wondering how she could try to cheer herself when Carson came into the room.

"Yes, Carson?" Robert said.

"My lord, a letter has just arrived for Lady Mary from Crawley House." Everyone's heart began to beat faster. It must have something to do with Matthew.

"Well then," Robert said, "please give the letter to me, Carson. I would like to see what it says at once."

"But Papa, the letter is for Mary!" Sybil interjected. "She ought to be the one to read it." Mary's face was entirely blank.

Underneath the table, Mary was wringing her hands. If something was truly wrong, Isobel wouldn't have sent them a letter, she would have come to Downton, wouldn't she? So then there was nothing that could be so horrible. She should tell Carson that she wanted to see the letter. She opened her mouth, and after almost choking on the first word, she spoke.

"Yes, Carson, I will read the letter. Thank you." Carson brought the tray to her, and she reached out for the envelope (and almost ripped it apart by accident). She composed herself, and read Isobel's script flowing on the page.

It seemed Isobel was asking for her to come to tea that afternoon, for just the two of them. Mary left out the softest sigh of relief.

"Not to worry, anyone. Cousin Isobel has simply invited me over for tea this afternoon." The room audibly lessened in tension as everyone sat back slightly in their chairs.

"How lovely," Sybil commented. "It's so nice that she wants to get to know you before the wedding."

"Yes, it's very kind," Mary replied in turn. She ran her finger over the edge of the paper distractedly. Little did the others know, Mary was worrying about this invitation for tea. Mary loved Isobel as she did all her relations, but was worried those feelings were not mutual. Mary had always quietly respected and admired Isobel's forcefulness, but she also knew that she had broken Matthew's heart, and didn't know if Isobel had been able to forgive her for that.

The other family members began to go about their days and appointments until Mary was the only one left at the table. Anna came in so she could begin clearing, not realizing that Mary was still in her seat. Carson had assumed everyone had left at that point.

"Milady, I'm sorry, I thought you would have moved out of here by now. Mr. Carson told me to come up and clear." Mary smiled fondly at Anna.

"It's alright, Anna. If anything, it's my fault. You can begin to clear. I'll go." Mary moved her chair back, and walked to the door when she turned around. "Anna?"

"Yes, milady?"

"Can I ask you for some advice?" Anna was taken aback at Mary's vulnerability.

"Of course, milady, although I'm not sure how proper it is for a housemaid to tell her mistress what to do."

"Oh Anna, you know I don't give a fig about rules. Besides, I often think you know what is better for me than I do." Mary rolled her eyes at her own silliness. Anna waited patiently for Mary to ask her question. "I have been invited to tea with Mrs. Crawley later...and I'm worried that she doesn't approve of me. Not even because of the obvious reason, but because of all that went wrong with Matthew two years ago."

"Well since you're asking, milady, I would say that you should just be yourself. Be kind. Besides, I doubt Mrs. Crawley is the type of woman to invite a future daughter-in-law over for tea only to be rude to her."

"I suppose you're right." Mary said thoughtfully, while the slight clinking of dishes rang from Anna's clearing. "No, I know you're right. Thank you, dear Anna." Mary smiled (one of her genuine smiles) and left Anna to her task. Little did Mary know, Anna was smiling as well. It was so nice that her mistress was finally happy.

* * *

The car pulled up to Crawley House. The fog was still swirling around the village and as far as the eye could see. Mary approached the house, and was led in promptly by Molesley. He sat her in the drawing room after taking her coat, and left her alone to wait for Isobel.

Not a minute later, Isobel walked into the room, already with a smile on her face. Mary rose to greet her, and found herself smiling as well.

"Hello, Mary dear, I'm so glad I got you to come join me today." Isobel was always so genuine, and it drew Mary out of her shell, if only a little bit.

"Me as well." Mary's mood sobered slightly. "I have to admit, you worried me a little when I saw there was a letter for me from Crawley House."

"Oh Mary, I'm so sorry I worried you at all. I know you must already be worrying as much as I am every day." Isobel knew Mary wasn't comfortable talking to her about Matthew yet, so she simply smiled sadly when Mary nodded her head in agreement.

"It's hard," Mary said finally, "but overall I'm getting on quite well." Mary tried to give a genuine smile, but Isobel could see the longing in her eyes. It comforted her to know that her son was marrying a woman that was truly in love with him. It gave her so much more joy in completing her true mission.

"Mary," Isobel continued, "I have to confess that tea and conversation is not the only reason I had for bringing you here today."

"Oh?" Mary said with surprise, and a tad of worry. The women quieted momentarily as Molesley brought in the tea. Once he left, Isobel proceeded.

"Not to worry. In fact, I'm sure you will leave here quite contented." Mary raised her eyebrows in anticipation. "I have a gift for you, from Matthew."

Mary looked up from the tea cup that she had just been stirring, and put the cup down gently.

"I don't want to ruin the surprise, but he also gave me a letter to go with it- for your eyes only, he instructed, so don't wonder if I've read it. He was quite clear that his words are only for you to see. If you want me to be here when you open it or not is up to you. But I think you might want to be alone."

"Thank you Isobel." Mary's voice caught. "I think I _would_ like to be alone- if that's truly alright."

"It truly is, Mary. The gift and his letter are on the mantle." Isobel patted Mary's knee. "I will leave you be. But please find me before you return to Downton."

"Of course!" Mary replied. Isobel walked out the doorway, taking her cup of tea with her. Mary immediately got up and made her way over to the mantle. She couldn't seem to find her gift, but she did see the letter, so she decided to read that first.

* * *

 _My Most Beloved Mary,_

 _I'm writing this letter to you on the train to France, where I have realized that I made a huge mistake. Don't worry, darling, I'm not talking about the engagement. In fact, I think the only thing keeping me sane right now is our engagement, and I know for the months to come I shall thank God for it every day._

 _I'm sure you are wondering why Mother has summoned you to Crawley House, and why everything seems to be so secretive. Well, since I can't be with you to do what I should be doing in person, I must still give you a sense of anticipation and surprise even without my presence. I'm sure you're quite confused now, so I'll ask you to look behind my parents' wedding portrait on the mantle, and see what you find._

Mary was shaking slightly in anticipation of Matthew's gift. She moved her hand behind the portrait and felt around until her fingers curled around a small box. Mary gasped, and fresh tears immediately came into her eyes. She brought the box into view, and traced it with her finger, smiling before opening it.

And there it was, a beautiful diamond ring. She almost starting sobbing, both in joy and sorrow. Matthew should have been there to give her this ring. But he wasn't and the fact that he would go to so much trouble to surprise her even while he was heading to war made her heart squeeze with all kinds of emotions she wasn't comfortable feeling, especially without him with her. She slid the simple yet elegant ring onto her finger. Of course, it fit perfectly.

She sat down on the couch and kept moving her eyes from his letter, to the ring, and back again.

 _Now that you have found my ring, I can rejoice. After four years of loving you, we are officially engaged. (For as I'm sure your society friends would put it, if it is not official before it's announced, then it definitely isn't official before you're wearing the ring!)_

Mary laughed at his silliness, and took a break from reading so she could clutch his letter close to her heart.

 _I've...I've had this ring since 1914. I was so sure we were going to marry that night of the ball, that the next morning I went out and bought you this ring. Now, don't be sad, because in some ways I'm glad we ended up having to wait so long to be married. This war has separated us, but in one small way I'm grateful for it and all of its pain- because it brought me the greatest joy. It brought me you, and in the last two years I have fallen even more hopelessly in love with you._

 _Soon my train will reach its destination, and we will truly be parted. I don't know how consistently my letters will arrive (although I hope there are no issues bringing them to you...and bringing yours back to me), so I just want to reinforce one thing before I hastily shove this into my bag._

 _I have no regrets. Not for any of it. I love our story how I love you, just as it is._

 _Your Matthew_

Mary looked up at the ceiling, and bit her lip. She knew it was cliche, but she imagined his hand touching her face, and pushed away the thought of him at war. After a couple moments of composing herself, Mary walked into the hallway and happened to see Molesley.

"Molesley, could you tell Mrs. Crawley that I'm ready for her to return to the drawing room?" He nodded and Mary returned to her place on the couch. Again, Isobel promptly returned and took a seat.

Before Isobel had settled in Mary spoke. "Thank you for doing this." Mary looked down, but then returned her gaze to Isobel. This vulnerability was proving to be very taxing to Mary. She wasn't sure how she wasn't going to get through months or even years of relying on others so much. "It means...a great deal to me."

"I know, Mary. I was glad to do it. I'll do anything to make my son happy." Isobel said contentedly. "Mary, I just wanted to let you know that I'll be here for you whenever you need me. We haven't really been too close before this, but I want to be clear. You're my daughter and...I love you. If you need anything, come to me. Please. We need to stick together. With Matthew gone, it will probably be easier for us both if we rely on each other."

"Isobel…" Mary started. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times without speaking. "I don't know what to say." She looked around the room, but the only words that came out were "Thank you," in a hushed whisper.

It wasn't conventional, but Isobel leaned over and hugged the younger woman. Mary was reluctant at first, but after a moment, wrapped her arms around Isobel.

"Now," Isobel broke the silence. "We can move on into lighter matters. Do you want to hear about many embarrassing stories from Matthew's childhood?"

Mary chuckled quietly, and knew in her heart she had just gained a second mother.

* * *

 _My Darling Matthew,_

 _I must let you know, I hate surprises. That, like many things, is Edith's fault (let us just say… when Edith tries to arrange a surprise she's arranging a disaster) but in all honestly, surprises make me feel as if I am not in control. So 'pleasant surprise' is not often in my vocabulary. But never fear, my darling, your lovely surprise has completely changed my heart on the subject, and I cannot thank you enough for it._

 _I will admit, I was rather worried when your mother invited me for tea today. At first I thought something terrible had happened to you, and the idea still makes me shudder. Thank God that is not the case. Then, once I finally stopped holding my breath about your safety, I feared your mother had summoned me to tea just to tell me that she did not approve of our relationship. Irrational, I know, and after today I cannot believe I even considered that possibility, but nevertheless, your surprise certainly threw me for a loop for a while._

 _Of course, when Isobel told me what you had arranged, any worry about the whole situation I had immediately melted away. How could I be upset when you surprised me so beautifully? No doubt, I would have much rather you been there in person, but this was so absolutely wonderful for the circumstances we are in. I could imagine your voice reading every word, your face so earnest and so excited, and your hand in mine as you slipped the ring on my finger. While you weren't able to physically be there (and I know you expressed your gratitude to the war for how it brought us together but I will damn it every day for keeping us apart) I know you were with me, and I know you will be with me in spirit even as we are seperated. That brings me comfort, and I hope you can find a similar comfort in knowing that my heart is with you, wherever you are._

 _The ring is beautiful, I must say, and I will proudly wear it. I went down without gloves for dinner this evening for that very reason (don't worry, Granny wasn't there… otherwise, I might not have risked it). I'm so very happy to be engaged to you, and even more looking forward to the pride and joy that will come with being your wife. Every time I look at this ring, I will remember how much we have gone through to be where we are, and I will know that whatever else we will go through will be no match for our love and devotion. I miss you more every moment, but I know that every moment brings me closer to seeing you again._

 _I'm sure Isobel will write to you about our meeting today as well, and she'll be able to describe to you far better what I looked like after reading your letter. We had a lovely tea afterwards, and I'm certain you'll be delighted to hear that we get on quite well (and we had several laughs at your expense I'm afraid- your childhood self certainly had some amusing ideas). I wish I could tell you exactly how I reacted, but I was so lost in what you had done for me that my heart was too full to worry about how I appeared. It was a beautiful moment between us but I fear neither of us fully experienced it. Regardless, I'm so grateful for what you arranged, and I still grin uncontrollably when I remember it._

 _I must leave this letter here, but thank you. Thank you for being so thoughtful, so wonderful, and thank you for loving me far more than I deserve. Last week my life changed forever, and it changed for the better. Our future is bright, my darling. As bright as the light shining off of this beautiful ring. Write me as soon as you possibly can; otherwise I will only have your last letter to reread whenever I need to hear your voice. I miss you, and I will miss you as long as you are out of my sight. I pray that is not long._

 _Your Mary Crawley_

* * *

It took us a while, as you can see, to get this chapter out, but it is a bit longer and I hope you enjoyed it! And to answer some who were asking, we have planned out the entire plot of this fic down to the scene by scene and sometimes even more detail, so don't worry, we have every intention of finishing it. It's just the matter of turning plot points into paragraphs!

With the summer getting closer, we will both have more time to write, and updates have a better chance of being close together. We loved this chapter and hope you did too.


	6. Chapter 6

_My Darling Mary,_

 _I have been back here at the front only a few weeks, but it feels like years for how much I miss you. Believe me, the first thing I asked when I arrived was when I could have my next leave. As you can imagine, that left my superior officers incredulous. Of course, I then explained myself and why I so desperately needed a long leave, and they understood. Still, I must admit, it was in poor taste to step into the trenches for a minute and already ask if I could go back home. The dates are set, though. On November 30th, I'll be able to board a train back to you, and on December 11th I have to be back on duty. I know it will seem short, but it's really quite extensive considering the usual standards and I'm very blessed to be able to spend that sort of time with you. So with that in mind, I propose we wed on December 2nd; I just need a day or two back at home to get into the swing of things and I want our honeymoon to be as long as possible. Please write me back soon and say if that works for you. If there are other extenuating circumstances, I can attempt to shift the dates, but I fear I've already asked for so much. But of course, anything for you, my darling._

 _When I arrived back in the trenches, all the men could tell something was different about me, and it was quite humorous to them. Apparently I'm not very good at hiding my joy. They all pressed me about it until I finally admitted that we were engaged. All of them send their hearty congratulations. So many of them are good men, and I hope maybe one day you'll be able to meet them. Perhaps then they won't laugh at how blatantly enamored I must be._

 _I'm afraid I cannot say much about what I'm doing, as any specific information could fall into the wrong hands (even the most romantic and soppy of letters, it seems, are targets) so do not be alarmed if I don't share much. I want to be certain my letters get to you safe and sound, because I need yours in return in order to hear your voice and keep me going. I reread your letter every night, because in some little way it means that you are near me. I won't lie, I have struggled adjusting to being back here, and sometimes I wonder if I ever had adjusted to being here in the first place. Then again, I'm not sure anyone should be able to adjust to this sort of hell. But don't let that worry you, darling. I know you fear enough for me already, but I'm doing everything I can to get through, and it's much easier knowing that you are with me, even if you are not physically present._

 _I can hardly wait to see you again, to hold you, to kiss you, to hear your voice, to see your smile, to make you my wife… Believe me, I'm counting down the days. Soon enough, I'll be counting down the hours. Every time I despair, I think of you. You are my angel, saving me, and I love you more than I could ever say. Please write as soon as possible; I need your voice in my head again._

 _All my love,_

 _Your Matthew_

* * *

Mary's teacup rattled as she set it down on the table in front of her, picking up Matthew's letter once again, although she had long since memorized every word. December was not so very far away, at least not when compared to the two years they had spent apart. At the same time, December seemed more distant than ever.

Her mother didn't seem to think so, however; when Mary had announced the dates of Matthew's next leave, Cora had murmured about how surprisingly soon it was and how difficult it would be to plan a wedding in that time frame. Mary had managed to refrain from rolling her eyes, but just barely. If anything, she couldn't wait for the wedding just so this period of planning for it could be over.

No such luck. Every minute of every day seemed to tick by slower and slower, and nothing went more slowly than wedding preparations.

Which, of course, was Cora's intent when she entered the library, disrupting Mary's peace with an armful of papers and forms.

"Mary? Do you have a few minutes?" she asked, smiling eagerly with an energy that Mary certainly did not feel.

"I know you're asking if I have a few hours, and unfortunately I have no excuse to say that I am not free currently," Mary replied, tucking the letter back into its envelope and setting it down beside her.

Cora sighed as she sat down across from Mary. "I know how much you're looking forward to your wedding, but I don't believe you realize how much detail goes into planning it."

"I don't need your elaborate plans, as they seem a rather ridiculous in the midst of a war. I just need a dress and maybe a few flowers and and a vicar who is willing to marry us. And mostly, I just need Matthew there. Anything else is secondary."

Cora sat back, pressing her lips together. "Darling, I know it's a very different time, but you still must have a proper wedding. And besides that, there are other things to plan for after you get married."

Mary frowned. "Such as?"

"Where you're going to live, for one."

"I see no reason why my current situation won't work. I'll simply stay in my room, my bed will certainly be large enough to accomodate Matthew when he is at home," she replied, taking a sip of her tea.

Shaking her head, Cora reached across to place a hand on Mary's knee. "Darling, you know that isn't proper. Matthew will need a dressing room near your room, and frankly, it's odd for you to remain in the same bedroom after you are married. I know no one in our family would condemn you, but the servants could talk, and gossip could get out, and…"

"I don't care. Matthew does not need a dressing room at present, considering he will hardly be home for the foreseeable future, and I see no need to bother moving bedrooms. I want Matthew to be in my bedroom." Mary's voice was firm, brokering no room for argument. "There we are, now that is taken care of."

"Mary, I…"

Mary held up a hand. "I could write Matthew and ask if it bothers him, but I'm certain it will not. Now, were there any other matters you were planning to overcomplicate?"

Cora's glance was incredulous. "Mary, I thought you had always dreamed of a beautiful wedding. I thought you always wanted it to be large and glamourous and completely in style."

"I might have dreamt of that once," Mary said softly, "but in the end, that is your dream for me. And whatever you want to do to make it in fashion, very well. But I do not have the stomach to plan an ostentatious event considering the circumstance our country is in, and I want nothing more than to be married. It could be at the courthouse for all I care, as long as Matthew was home safe to be married to me. So, if you'll excuse me, the few minutes that you asked of me are up."

Mary left the room, Matthew's letter clutched in her hand, without a single glance back at Cora.

* * *

Mary closed her book and rubbed a hand across her forehead. She had been hiding out in her room since her conversation with her mother earlier that afternoon. Unfortunately, it was now time to change for dinner, and she couldn't think of a suitable excuse that would grant her the evening's reprieve.

Her mother aggravated her to no end! How could she not see that she wasn't the same girl as the twenty-one year old in 1912? A girl with no real life experience outside the endless quest for a husband? She had fallen in love, lost that love, and held that love dear to her heart as the country descended into a vicious war where men were dying by the thousand each day. She couldn't be that girl anymore, and if Mary was honest, she was glad she had somewhat grown out of her spoiled ways. Matthew's honest and true love spoiled her more than money or his future inheritance ever could. And even then, it was possible that future inheritance could never find him, if he….

Mary couldn't bring herself to finish the thought. It seemed no matter what she tried to think about, her thoughts would circle back to her fiancé. Was this to be her life now? Forever waiting and dreading every telegram, every letter? She knew she was strong, but she wasn't sure yet how she would be able to stand it.

Anna knocked on the door, and Mary invited her in to start their daily primping process. Anna noticed Mary was exceptionally quiet. They prepped in companionable silence. Anna held out Mary's dinner dress, and she stepped into it unenthusiastically. When Anna quirked an eyebrow, Mary simply looked at her and sighed exaggeratedly in response. Anna smiled and finished touching up Mary's hair before leaving the room and returning to her other duties downstairs.

Mary sat down on the side of her bed for a moment. It seemed she was always alone these days. She tried her best to avoid her mother and Edith. One wanted to talk animatedly about the wedding and all of its unnecessary glitz, and the other wanted to talk about how sad it would be that Matthew wouldn't be there to help. Mary decided she didn't want to partake in either of these conversations. She couldn't even talk to Sybil, who was spending more and more time at the hospital these days. Mary was worried her youngest sister would run off to France as a nurse- she couldn't bear the possibility of losing both Sybil and Matthew to the war.

Instead, over the next weeks, Mary spent her time conversing almost exclusively with her father and grandmother. They knew what she didn't want to talk about, and didn't pressure her into doing so. Granny stuck to safer topics, such as whatever Edith was doing on that farm, or whatever gossip Rosamund had heard in London. Robert and Mary reminisced on life before the war. It was far from perfect, but it was a simpler time, and Mary was pleased just to be able to stop thinking about Matthew's safety for an hour or two.

After returning from another tea with Violet at the dower house, Mary flopped rather uncharacteristically down onto her bed, blowing the piece of hair out of her face that had escaped Anna's perfect coif. There was no point in trying to find something else to distract herself these days. She'd been riding, walking, and paying family calls more than she could ever previously recall- in just the last several weeks!

There was still an hour or two before the dinner gong rung, and Mary needed something to do. Perhaps all of this distraction from Matthew was only making her think of him more. Maybe if she were to write him, to tell him how much she worried for him, it would alleviate some of the emotions swirling inside her. She felt like a corked bottle ready to explode.

Mary headed to the writing desk in the library. She had someone very important to whom she must write.

* * *

 _Dearest Matthew,_

 _I have never had such a hard time as these last several weeks trying to keep someone off of my mind. But your face appears in my head daily, and it seems as if you are here to stay. I don't think Diamond has gotten as much exercise in years as he has in the past month! I ride nearly every day to forget your absence, but when I'm flying across the estate all I can think of is our day together by the willow trees. I keep looking over, expecting to see you trying desperately to keep up with me. Maybe one time we race on our horses, I'll let you win, just to see a smile on your face._

 _I hope the conditions where you are aren't too horrible. Please let me know if there's anything I can do for you. If it's dry socks or simply lending an ear, I will do it gladly. And please- never feel as if you have to hold anything back from me. I am to be your wife- how extraordinary that still sounds- and it is my duty and pleasure to help you through your burdens as you have already helped me through so many of mine._

 _Speaking of burdens, Mama seems to be feeling the burden of wedding planning more than ever. Now that we are well into October, we are reaching the final stretch of flowers, cake, and yes, the dress. I do hope you will be quite satisfied. It's a little extravagant for a wartime wedding, but I figured since we are compromising on the scale of everything else, we deserved one thing to be up to the typical aristocratic standards. After all, I am marrying the future earl of Grantham- I must show up looking worthy of being his future Countess._

 _Oh- and before I forget- I meant to mention this in an earlier letter but it must have slipped my mind. Mama insisted I change bedrooms, but I said no. You will have no need for a dressing room in our current situation, and I don't want any of our time together being wasted by adjusting to a foreign room. So if Mama writes you asking if you would want me to change rooms- please give her a negative response. She's taken over so much- and in some ways I'm grateful for that- but this is one area I do not want to compromise on. You've put up with my walls for too long, and this is one way I want to let you in._

 _Anyways, my darling, the gong is about to ring and I must stop writing for the present. I pray for your immediate response and for your imminent return! Only a little over a month until we see each other again! (Rest assured I too am still counting the days and hours and I hope you have continued to do the same.)  
Love,_

 _Your Mary_

* * *

 _My Dear Mary,_

 _I promise you I have been counting down the days and hours to our reunion just as eagerly as you are! And don't worry- I received said letter from Cora about our future living arrangements, and told her that I stand by whatever decision you make. I trust in you knowing what's best for us more than your mother, if you don't mind me saying._

 _I do wish I could be riding alongside you. Although if you let me win, I shall be very cross! If I win, I shall do so on merit and merit alone. I look forward to the day where I can ride freely with you alongside me, as my wife. I am looking forward to so many things, darling, and all of them have to do with you._

 _The conditions here are as one would expect. Clean, dry socks are always appreciated, although a picture of your face would be even more comforting in these trying times. I can't say much in these letters about what I'm doing, but I want to assure you that I'm doing everything in my power to come back to you. I don't know if you're aware- well, at least I hope you are- but I love you. Every day I pray to come back to you, and I pray God will grant me the incomparable happiness of being married to you for many years._

 _We are truly in the final stretch- just over a month until my return (but I'm sure you know that). But writing it makes it real! Just over a month until I hold you in my arms, and just a month until we are married. I truly cannot wait to see you in your wedding dress. Can you tell me anything about it? And please don't answer that it will be white, for I know you would, as you love to tease me and outwit me. Either way, I'm sure you will look radiant. And don't worry about it being more upscale than the rest of the wedding, it will simply match the extravagance of my red mess kit. The gold pieces make me feel as if I should be hung among the chandeliers._

 _But truly, before I go, I must tell you how happy you make me. Getting your letters brightens my whole day and makes me smile so wide the men make fun of me. Yet I don't care; I hardly even hear them. I love you, and I'm so lucky to have you. Please never forget that, as I know I never will._

 _Lovingly and adoringly,_

 _Matthew_

* * *

"Lady Mary Crawley is here to see you, ma'am," Molesley announced, standing in the doorway of the drawing room. Isobel looked up from the medical text she had been engrossed in for who knows how long to see her future daughter-in-law standing behind the butler.

"Mary," she said, a genuine smile filling her face. "How nice to see you!" As Molesley closed the door behind them, Isobel gestured to the pot of tea on the table. "Would you like something to drink? I hope it's not too cold, but if it is, I'll ring for some more."

Mary shook her head and sat down in the armchair across from where Isobel had been. "No thank you," she says briskly.

Isobel settled back into her seat as well. "You seem to have a mission of some sort."

"Do I? I suppose I do. Yes. Well, as he's probably told you, Matthew has managed to acquire enough leave for us to have a short honeymoon. I said I would arrange everything, and he's perfectly happy with that. Traditionally, most couples I've known have honeymooned on the continent, but besides our limited time, obviously the continent is not at all desirable for a honeymoon. I've been trying to locate an appropriate spot, and I think I have an idea, but I need your help."

"Mine?" Isobel asked, raising her eyebrows. "Surely I'm not as well travelled as your parents, or your grandmother, or…"

"Perhaps not, but you must remember their idea of travel is going to some other lavish estate on the property of a family friend. Which of course is not something Matthew would enjoy, and frankly I'm not sure I would either. But that is not exactly why I need your help. You see, my plan is to take Matthew to Manchester."

Isobel's mouth dropped, and she let out a soft gasp. "Oh, what a lovely idea."

Mary nodded, swallowing thickly. "He...he was afraid he would never see it again," she explained, trying not to sound like she was on the verge of tearing up. "And I've never been, so I think it would be fun for him to show me around. But that's where you come in; you know the city, and since I need to make some reservations, you would know which places we should go to. Of course I'll let him choose some things to do as well, but I need some suggestions to get us started. Most importantly, where to stay. What would you say is the nicest hotel in Manchester?"

Isobel smiled admiringly, impressed by Mary's idea and initiative. She loved a good surprise, especially one that she knew Matthew would find so meaningful. "I couldn't say for sure, only that I've certainly never stayed there. But I may have an idea."

"Thank you so much, Isobel," Mary said, the edge of tearfulness beginning to slip away. "Do you have time this afternoon? I would love to work on this."

"I'm heading to the hospital this evening, but until then we can arrange all you like. That is, if you don't have wedding planning to do today."

Mary laughed. "I'm afraid Mama has that fall too well in hand, and consequently is driving me up a wall with it all."

"Really? What a shame, but I can't say I'm not surprised," Isobel replied, a twinkle in her eye. "Now, if you're to stay, I really insist you must have some tea. I would be a poor host otherwise."

Mary shrugged. "You hardly need to be a perfect hostess to me, as I will soon be your daughter, but a cup of tea does sound quite delightful at the moment."

Isobel rang the bell and grinned across at Mary, despite the wave of indistinguishable emotion filling her chest.

* * *

 _Mary,_

 _We've done it, darling. By the time you get this letter I will be on the train home to you. It's been a rough couple of months having you in my head and not in my arms, and I'm so grateful for the reprieve we have been granted._

 _By now, I'm sure the flowers have all been ordered, the cake nearly done, and your dress hidden away waiting to drape your form. I can't express how excited I am to become your husband._

 _I never want you to doubt that we deserve this happiness. I assure you we do, my darling. Six months ago I never thought I could be this happy, especially while living in these trenches. But you are my salvation, my sanity, and I can't wait to repay you and worship you for all that you've done for me._

 _Mother tells me you have managed to plan us a honeymoon, and although I don't know where we are headed, I am glad that we won't be spending the beginning of our married life at Downton. I don't think I could get used to taking you to bed with the whole family watching- Carson as well. Thank you for organizing this mystery trip on top of the wedding. I feel rather remiss for not having helped, but I doubt even if I had been present I would have made much of a difference. I hope you stood your ground as much as you could with Cora- she is strong-willed, dear, but I think you are equally strong-willed if not even stronger._

 _Days, darling. Merely hours until I see you, and I count them all with ever-increasing anticipation._

 _Making my way back to you as we speak._

 _Matthew_

* * *

 **It happened! We actually posted another chapter!** Rest assured that this story is definitely **NOT** dead. Even if it takes forever to get the chapters out, we still talk about the story all of the time and plan on finishing it! Thanks to all that have stuck with us thus far, and we hope you eagerly await our updates in the future. And just a disclaimer in order to give credit where credit is due- it is 100% my, galindadaae,'s fault, for alliluna had her part finished many months ago. But we are back in the groove and ready to go full steam ahead.

-Galindadaae and Alliluna


	7. Chapter 7

Mary smiled as she felt the familiar comfort of Matthew's palm pressing into her own. She looked up at him and could sense that her gaze was so obviously adoring that she had to look away before the rest of the family could notice. Cora silently raised an eyebrow when she saw the couple sitting so closely together on the couch, hands intertwined. Mary caught this look as Matthew remained completely unaware, talking animatedly to her father. Mary rolled her eyes before discreetly slipping her hand out of Matthew's. The men remained oblivious to this entire interaction. Cora was really plucking at Mary's nerves. Thank God the wedding was tomorrow, for Mary couldn't have survived with her mother needling her about one more pointless detail. As Matthew had said in his last letter before returning home, the flowers had arrived, the dress was ready, and the cake was made. There was nothing to be done at this point. But they would be married tomorrow come hell or high water.

Instead of making herself angry with thoughts of her mother, Mary focused on a happier memory- one made earlier that day.

* * *

"Mary?" Her father asked her that morning at breakfast.

"Yes, Papa?" She responded in kind.

"Were you planning on meeting Matthew at the station or receiving him here alongside the rest of us?"

"I know the correct answer is that I should receive him alongside the rest of the family," Mary said primly.

"But I take it that is not your preferred option." He sounded quite unsurprised.

"Seeing my fiance for the first time in months is not necessarily something I want to do with an audience of the entire family and the servants." Edith snorted at this. Mary jumped a bit, having forgotten Edith was there, and then gave her an unimpressed look.

Robert sighed in resignation. "If I were a smart man, I would say no." Mary's lips curled into a small smile. Robert moved to get up and then paused. "Just...don't mention it to your mother until after you've had the car brought around."

Mary laughed. "I do not doubt your good judgment." Robert stood up and kissed the top of her head before leaving to start his day.

An awkward silence fell over Mary and Edith.

"So I suppose," Edith began, "that you'll be rushing to ring for Anna and pick out the perfect outfit to meet Matthew in."

"What is wrong with what I am wearing now?" Mary asked, disbelieving.

"It's fine," Edith said. "I mean, if you enjoy looking like a candy cane."

Mary looked down at her red and white striped shirt with sudden horror. Normally this comment from Edith would have gone unacknowledged- but really, a candy cane! Edith laughed and Mary glared at her before rushing out of the dining room to no doubt ring for Anna.

After working with Anna to find a more suitable ensemble to greet Matthew in, Mary found herself with hours to go until his arrival. She tried reading books, but nothing interested her. She even tried to organize some of the trinkets in her room- but quickly gave up. Anna knew perfectly where everything would look its best.

Eventually, after hours of unsuccessfully trying to find amusement Mary found a suitable enough book in the library. She returned to her room only to fall asleep while reading on her bed.

Mary was awakened by a light tapping on her door. She sat up and made sure she still looked somewhat presentable for anyone trying to enter her room. "Come in," she called.

The door opened slightly and Mary saw her father peek around the door. "I just wanted to let you know, my dear, that if you want to fetch Matthew, you better head to the station now."

"Oh no," Mary moaned, "I forgot to tell Branson to have the car ready."

"You'll find him waiting for you now if you're ready. You'll be able to sneak past your Mama as she's having a last minute meeting with Mrs. Hughes, no doubt about tomorrow."

Mary stood up and checked over herself in the vanity mirror before walking to the door."I'm not surprised about that. And thank you, Papa." She headed toward the stairs.

Robert smiled as he saw the car pull away to take his daughter to see her fiance.

* * *

Mary blew out the breath she was unconsciously holding when she saw Matthew's train coming into the station. Steam billowed around her and she took a small step back as the train pulled up next to her. The doors opened and she found herself once more holding her breath.

The first passengers exited, and she looked at them eagerly to see if her Matthew was among them. He was not. After a minute she began to get impatient. Right before she started to worry Matthew missed his train and all that would mean, there he was in front of her. She had looked away for just a moment to see if he had left from another car (it would be like him not to take first class if he was alone), and when she turned around his eyes were looking into hers.

"Mary," he said breathlessly. Mary stood frozen, almost not believing it was real. That he was real. She put her hand to his cheek, and his gloved hand covered her own.

"You're here."

"Yes," he said simply. She didn't move towards him, but bit her lip nervously before a grin took over her face.

"We're getting married tomorrow," she whispered. He had made it through these last few months. It was just now hitting her that in less than twenty-four hours she would be his wife. He would be her husband. How lovely the thought.

He laughed lightly at her genuine face of surprise. "Indeed we are." More boldly, he added, "And do I not deserve a kiss from my fiance after having been away for months?"

"You deserve that and more, although I don't think the train personnel would enjoy such a display very much." Matthew smiled, a dark glint in his eyes. Mary blushed, then looked back up and met his gaze. "But I suppose my reputation could survive one kiss."

"And thank God for that," Matthew whispered before pressing his lips to hers. Feeling her lips once more reminded him of just how much he had missed her in these last few months. He could stay here forever in her arms if the world would let him. Well, he didn't have forever, but he did have these next ten days. He would make the most of them.

Mary tried to pour all of her love into that one kiss. Words had never been her forte. Despite herself, a tear fell from one of her eyes. Matthew pulled back and seemed distressed at her distress. How typical of them.

"Mary?"

"It's nothing, darling. I just- there was a long time I thought that tomorrow would never arrive for us. For a myriad of reasons."

"Let us not dwell on the past. We are here, and we will be married and on honeymoon and I quite believe that these will be some of the best days of my life."

"You're right," Mary responded. She discreetly wiped her tear, and linked her arm with Matthew's. "Now come, Branson is waiting and so is the rest of the family." Matthew did his customary huff-laugh that always tempted Mary to smile. "Our hero has quite the reception committee."

"Oh, God." he said as they walked to the car.

"And do try not to be surprised when Mama glares at us. I may have stolen away to greet you alone instead of with them, something I'm sure she doesn't approve of."

"Always the rebellious daughter," He said, waiting for Branson to open the car door for his fiance.

"Of course," She said as she got into the car and waited for him to join her.

* * *

"Of course I'm quite overjoyed to be home." Matthew said to her father. "Although perhaps more so this time around than others." Mary had been snapped out of her reverie.

"I'm simply glad you think of Downton as your home now." Robert smiled at Matthew. Perhaps, Matthew thought, home wasn't Downton, but Mary. He looked at her next to him, conversing with Edith about the large pile of wedding gifts- even during war time, and smiled. Her engagement ring caught the afternoon light just so. She looked radiant. She laughed at something Edith said- and genuinely too. He found the sisters got along better when Mary was content. Edith smiled in response- still somewhat treasuring her older sister's approval.

He got off the couch and moved towards his mother, who had just been abandoned by Cousin Violet. "I hope you're not too angry with me."

"Angry?" Isobel asked, confused. "Why would I be angry?"

"Well, because Mary secretly came to greet me at the station, but you saw me alongside the rest of the family. You deserve more than to be lumped in with cousins."

"That's true, my dear. But I am quite sure I do not fit into the category of fiance either." Matthew laughed somewhat uncomfortably. "I know time is sparse for you and Mary, at least for the foreseeable future...and I want to give you as much time as possible with your new wife."

"Thank you, Mother." They looked at each other with almost a sadness. For with all the happiness of adding Mary to their family, they were still losing something. It had been just them for so long. He would miss his mother. He wasn't leaving forever, but things _were_ changing. When he returned on leaves, he would be returning to Downton instead of Crawley House. He was returning to his wife, not his mother. "So," Matthew said, breaking the nostalgic silence. "Do you approve of my choice of wife?"

"Even if I opposed this wedding with every fibre of my being- which I do not- I do not doubt that it would still go ahead as planned."

"You're probably right," Matthew laughed. On a more serious note, he continued. "Mother, I would hate for you to be all alone at Crawley House when I'm home on leave at Downton. You should have a room here for those times. Or at least consider it."

"I doubt you will want your mother quite so near, but for now I'll enjoy your pre-marital blindness and tell you I will consider it."

Matthew made to respond when Mary's voice wafted over to him as it always did. "-in fact, we'd better turn him out." Before Matthew knew it, he and Mary were alone in the Great Hall, saying their goodbyes until they reunited in the morning at the church.

Mary smiled at him indulgently. She repeated her words from earlier, "We are getting married in the morning."

He repeated after her, hoping that the words would truly sink in- that this wasn't a dream. "We are getting married in the morning." He tried to feel the joy that had been enveloping him ever since he got onto the train in London, but it suddenly seemed to be slipping through his fingers. He was always forgetting just how high the stakes were. He truly could die in this war, and all Mary would have was the memories of their honeymoon, and at most a child. Oh God, a child! He hadn't considered that. He could be leaving behind two people after this leave, not just one. He pictured Mary holding an infant, then suddenly his mind pictured her and the child next to a grave- his grave. How could he do this to her? He wouldn't be able to hurt her like that.

Even if he did make it through the war, how would he be able to be a parent? It seemed sometimes as if all he ever remembered anymore was how to be a soldier. He used to want siblings as a boy, and when he realized that wasn't to be, he waited to have a large family of his own. But the gunshots and the blood. He had done despicable things- he had taken away other children's fathers and other wives' husbands. Why should he be granted any chance at happiness? He was a murderer. The sound of whistling shells, of shouting orders, of men screaming in agony, of men's boots stomping in mud, the smell of _death_ all became a cacophony in his head and he couldn't do it he couldn't do it he couldn't do it he couldn't do-

"Matthew?" A voice called out to him. Kept calling out to him, he realized. The voice sounded worried. He felt pressure on his arm and looked down to see a woman's hand there. "Matthew?" It was Mary's hand, he realized. He looked up and there she was. Perfect. No mud, no blood.

"I can't do this." He blurted out.

"What?" Mary said, disbelieving.

"We can't get married. I'm not...worthy of you." She tried to cut him off but he continued. "You think of me as a heroic soldier but Mary...if I told you the truth about the things I've done at the front you wouldn't be able to look me in the eye. And then even if we did get married I might die and leave you with a child, our child-" Mary flinched "and I couldn't do that to you. I'm sorry, Mary."

"Oh Matthew," She said, her voice thick with tears. "Why didn't you tell me any of these fears before now?"

Matthew wiped his eyes. "I don't think I knew that I felt them until now, if I'm honest." Mary almost laughed.

"You sound like me. Afraid to let love in." Matthew tried to give her a shaky smile but it came out pained. She looked him square in the eye. "We are getting married in the morning." Matthew gave an nearly invisible shake of his head. Mary persevered. "Matthew. Please say it."

"I can't, Mary." It came out as a broken whisper. She took a deep breath and took his face in her hands.

"Matthew Crawley, I almost lost you once, and it took a war for us to realize how much we needed each other. I am not letting go of you again. And the next time you're at the front, it will be as my husband. Promise me, Matthew." She nearly begged. Begged him to see reason.

"Mary, please-"

"Promise me!" It came out almost as a sob.

"I promise."

"And?"

"We are...getting married in the morning.""Yes we are."

"Man and wife." His eyes picked back up some of their spark.

"Yes."

"Bound together." His lips quirked.

"Forever."

Matthew sighed in relief and tilted his forehead to meet hers. "Thank you for saving me from making the worst mistake of my life."

"So you see, we must get married. Where would you be without me?" They laughed together.

Isobel came into the Great Hall quietly, letting Matthew know she was waiting for whenever he was ready.

"I have to go," he said, nodding his head at his mother. Mary turned around and saw what he meant.

"Are you going to be alright tonight? Truly, Matthew." She was still worried.

"Yes, I believe so. At least I will be now." Still, she wasn't entirely convinced. "I'll show up in my red mess kit, and you'll be in a fabulously extravagant dress, and together we will write the next chapter of our story, just like we planned. I promise," he reiterated.

"I promise," Mary echoed. With a kiss on the cheek from Matthew and a hug from Isobel, he was gone.

Tomorrow.

* * *

The light in her bedroom was unusually bright as she blinked, opening her eyes. Had she overslept? That would be disastrous- she had so much to do to get ready for the wedding, which was already on the early side. Even on the day of their wedding, she wanted to be his as soon as possible.

Her fire had not been lit, though, meaning it must be terribly early in the morning. She rolled out of bed and went to the window, drawing back the curtain, and suddenly understood.

"Of all the days," she murmured, transfixed by the snow falling softly outside her window.

The door opened behind her, and she almost jumped, which in turn frightened Daisy, who stood at the door with her equipment for tending the fire in hand. The buckets and brushes clattered to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, milady," Daisy murmured, her eyes wide. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"You're not," Mary said, turning back to the window. "How long has it been snowing?"

"It was when I woke up, about two hours past," Daisy said. She still appeared to be shaking.

Mary nodded. "Well, I will not let it ruin my wedding day."

"If I may say so, milady, I think it's so romantic," Daisy said, with a shy smile. She still appeared rather terrified. "Oh, the fire!"

"You know, I think you may be right. It is rather romantic," Mary said. "Do you know what time it is?"

Daisy probably had never talked to Mary this much in her life. "Just past six, I believe, milady." She tended the fire as quickly as possible and clattered out with an awkward bob of a curtsy.

Their wedding was due to start at eleven. It was just five hours until she was married to the love of her life.

Marriage. Love. Rather cynically, Mary had once doubted that those two ideals could be united in her experience. But she had never been more happy to be wrong.

Five hours. She could do that. It was nothing compared to the years they would… they might have together.

She could not think of that. Not on her wedding day. No doubt the thoughts of the future also distressed Matthew on this day, but neither of them could dwell on the uncertainties of the future. They had today.

The snow was falling, and the world, for one shining day, was pure.

* * *

Matthew woke up with a start; it had been so long since he had woken to peace, and he was unfamiliar with the notion. The silence was strange and disconcerting and as much as he had longed for it while in the midst of battle, he now resented it. He could not quiet his thoughts when they were the only noise around him. He wanted nothing more than to have Mary as his wife, and yet he almost loved her too much to put her through what that might entail. She had assured him some last night, but no words, even from her, could completely free his conscience.

He had forgotten how comfortable his bed was, or at least had a new appreciation for it after sleeping on hard cots for months. He sank into the mattress, not wanting to leave, but knowing that if he stayed still, the silence would overtake him.

He pulled himself out of bed and opened the curtains, surprised to see a layer of white coating the world outside. A childlike delight filled his heart. A week or so before, there had been snowfall in France, but that had been a threat rather than a joy. Perhaps some snobby society members would not be able to attend the wedding due to the snow, but everyone who mattered to Matthew was already there. Even if no one could attend, as long as Mary was there, nothing else would matter.

It was already a sparse wedding, at least in comparison to what Mary expected. And here he was with no groomsmen; none of his friends at all, in fact, could make it. He might have minded in another world, another life. But it could not matter, not today.

The snow was the world's decoration for them.

How could he wait the five hours until they were to be married? How could he fill that time, fill his mind, fill his heart before he greeted the woman he loved as his wife?

He opened his bedroom door and tiptoed down the stairs. The drawing room had a better view of the garden outside covered in snow.

It was unnaturally quiet that morning, yes. But there was peace outside, and Matthew prayed that there might be peace inside him.

He was going to marry the woman he loved. That had to be enough.

* * *

Mary smiled when Anna pulled her hands back from her head. Every single strand was in place. Somehow, rather miraculously, they were still on track to arrive early. Mary had made it quite clear that she wouldn't tolerate lateness from anyone. She and Matthew had already waited much longer than they should have to be married.

She stood up, faced the mirror, and took the dressing gown off to reveal her completed dress, tailored to perfection. Cora, Edith, and Sybil all smiled.

"You look so beautiful. My daughter," Cora cooed. Mary hesitantly smiled. She knew in many ways her mother opposed her marriage to Matthew, but she also knew her mother wanted her happiness. Well, Mary today would show her that Matthew is the source of so much of her happiness. Today was her day, and she would not let anything ruin it. So she reached out and took her mother's hand before thanking her genuinely. Cora kissed her cheek and left the room to head downstairs.

Edith and Sybil gave Mary simple good luck wishes and hugs (even from Edith!) before they exited the room as well. Then it was just her and Anna. Mary vainly admired herself in the mirror.

"Are you ready to go downstairs, milady?" Anna asked.

"Not quite, I'm afraid. I would like to just live in this moment for myself before sharing it with others." Mary gave herself free reign to be self-indulgent. She bit her lip and fought a huge smile. Today was her _wedding day._ Tonight she would be married, and to the man she loved. What a foreign concept. She stared at the girl in the mirror. She couldn't believe she was saying this, but she was happy- happy!- on this day.

Her hands moved down the smooth ivory silk of her dress. She couldn't wait for Matthew to see it. She truly had chosen a more extravagant dress. She simply couldn't resist, and she knew it would be worth it when she saw his face.

The dress was unusual for the styles of the time. It was nearly a princess dress, reminiscent of the silhouette popular in the 1770s. The sides of the skirt opened to a lace front with embroidery work. The silk bodice was fitted to show off her slim waist, with sleeves to her elbow. The front came down to a sharp point, meeting the silk of the bodice with the lace of the skirt. She felt beautiful, and without reservation. She lifted her skirt and turned to Anna. "Let us be on our way."

Mary took one last look at her room- this was the last time she would be here as an unmarried woman! Anna closed the door behind her and off they went.

* * *

Matthew squeezed his mother's hand as they stepped over the threshold of the church. He had insisted on going early, as the waiting was proving overwhelming for him, and so they were some of the first people there. He stood proud and tall in his mess kit, but he could not hide the anxieties pressing at him. He shook hands with the vicar and took his seat in the front row, Isobel sitting behind him.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've nothing to worry about, Matthew," she said.

He turned to face her, shaking his head. "I have so many things to worry about and yet I worry not for myself, but for those I love. For you, for Mary… You have no choice but to be connected with me in all of this, to fear for me. But Mary… this life, she's choosing it. How can I let her choose it? Perhaps I did talk some sense into her last night, perhaps she won't show up."

Isobel shook her head. "You don't want that."

"I want what's best for her," Matthew said. "And if that doesn't involve me, then so be it."

"Matthew," Isobel begins, her voice soft. "I am so proud of you. I'm amazed every day by your kindness, your compassion, your selflessness. But for once in your life, my darling boy, allow yourself to be selfish. What you truly want and what Mary wants are one and the same. Let yourself be happy, and let her be happy, even if it means a little risk."

He almost laughed. "You're almost convincing," he said. "I've made this choice, and I cannot change it now. For better or for worse, unless she decides against it, we will be husband and wife."

"And she will not decide against it, Matthew, you know that. And for the record, I'd be considered entirely convincing if it weren't for your stubbornness."

"Ah, yes, I noticed you did not count that among my positive traits," he murmured, a smile pulling at the sides of his mouth.

"You will be well matched in stubbornness, I'm afraid," Isobel said. "It's a miracle you two are even here today."

Matthew thought about it, about all the conversations, the sideways glances, the looks of longing and heartache and all the emotions in between- all of it had brought them here. Two people, equally matched in strength and stubbornness and love and desire. Was Mary truly his soulmate? Matthew couldn't say if he believed in the concept, but if there were such a thing, she would be his. But no matter what, she was in his heart, and that could not be denied.

He would love her all of his days, no matter how few they might be.

The music began, and Matthew tensed up, only to relax again at Isobel's calming hand on his shoulder. "Good luck, my boy. For today, and for the rest of your lives."

He closed his eyes and listened to the chatter filling the church. The noise was comforting to him now. He let himself sink into the music until he heard the doors of the church swing open.

This was it. He stood up at the front of the chapel almost mindlessly. When was Mary coming up the aisle? Could he turn to look at her? As flower girls passed by, he could no longer resist the urge. How could he go without seeing the woman he loved in her full glory?

He turned.

She was like the snow falling outside; graceful, pure, peaceful, decked in white, floating down the aisle with a soft, reassuring smile across her face. As soon as they made eye contact, he grinned uncontrollably, and she responded in kind. It mattered not how they appeared to others, for they were one and the same in their joy.

Mary had been so nervous, so afraid that Matthew might not show up. Any bride feared being jilted, but Mary feared losing Matthew more than that. She could have borne any embarrassment as long as she had Matthew by her side. To her great relief, however, there he was, standing in the front of the church, grinning broader than she had ever seen, his eyes bright and blue, standing out against his most becoming red uniform, and his love for her pure as the snow.

The walk down the aisle seemed interminable but finally she reached the front of the church and was able to take his hand in hers. "You're here," she said softly, as the vicar began his traditional speech. "I was half convinced you'd scared yourself away."

"I was half convinced I'd scared you away," he whispered in return. "Fortunately you're absurdly stubborn and incredibly brave."

"And fortunately you're absurdly loyal," Mary responded. "And you love me."

"I do, so much," he whispered in her ear, just as the vicar was asking for objections.

Mary looked at him with a smirk. "Don't you dare object."

"With you looking like that, I wouldn't ever think of it," he said. It was a shame they were in front of so many people, as he could barely control the urge to kiss her. He would have to wait until the end of the ceremony.

They recited their vows, although neither of them could have recalled a word they said, at least not until "I will". Matthew made the mistake of glancing into the audience at one point, and upon seeing his mother cry, a tear almost escaped him as well. Perhaps he needed the veil to obscure his face more than Mary did. Mary smiled more throughout the ceremony than she could remember ever smiling in her whole life. If nothing else, this moment, here with him, was perfect. Would she remember anything aside from his smile, his eyes, his voice choked up with unshed tears of joy? Perhaps not, but that in itself was more than enough for her, because it was him.

At last, the vicar said the words that they had both longed to hear from the moment the ceremony started: "I now pronounce you husband and wife." Matthew immediately took her into his arms and kissed her with passion and love and unshed tears. It was not chaste enough to be a wedding kiss, but neither of them could care. It was perfect for them, and who could fault a soldier for the passion with which he loved his wife?

When they finally broke apart, not even hearing the cheering from the audience behind them, Matthew reached for Mary's hand and squeezed it. "I think I'm ready to go out into the world with my wife," he whispered. "And you?"

"I rarely follow anyone, but I'd follow my husband anywhere."

He could not resist kissing his wife once again, as if they had all the time in the world.


End file.
